Catherine, it's one of our sons! I suspect Achenar, but I shouldn't jump to conclusions.

Catherine, my love, I have to leave quickly.

I know my apprehensions might never be allayed, and so I close, realizing that perhaps the ending has not yet been written. Still, the questions about whose hands might one day hold my Myst Book are unsettling to me.

I have tried to speculate where it might have landed I must admit, however, such conjecture is futile. It continued falling into that starry expanse, of which I had only a fleeting glimpse. I realized, the moment I fell into the fissure, that the Book would not be destroyed as I had planned.I clicked in places that no decent human being would have ever have expected one to click, and finally found that sucker down a darkened passage way.Īfter that I tore through the rest of the ages in a day.Atrus My apprehensions might never be allayed, and so I close, realizing that perhaps the ending has not yet been written. Yet several hours later I awoke and re-commenced the mission with vengeance. On went the printer to save time ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ about copying out symbols.įor just over two days I poked every nook and probed every cranny, inspected every object, slapped every surface of this slutty game with my little yellow hand until I found and PLUNDERED its trap-doors, MOUNTED and RODE its puzzles to their solutions one by one.Īlmost defeated on the Stoneship Age - when for hours I couldn’t find my way off that God forsaken crag - I felt myself spiral into a depressive fatigue and passed out. Up bubbled a quarter century's worth of bitter resentment. Then a few days ago the title vaguely crossed my mind. Whiling my days away I dabbled in esoteric knowledge, tried my hand at solving petty logic problems and occasionally browsed for old games… I now considered it beyond my powers of reason, and as a result I declared myself a puzzle solving loser, never to understand Myst's workings, never to solve any of its sequels, and thus by extension, never to win at a puzzle game ever.įast forward to the present day and I found myself in a period of early semi retirement. Over the years that followed I caught glimpses of it whenever I went up there to bury more games created by insane people in the 90s (Phyicus 1999?).

I threw my Myst collection into a dusty corner of the attic and turned my back on it. I bought further releases in the vain hope that somehow things would be different, that I could change, that I could be better.īut the grim reality soon set in when I realised that the puzzles were now somehow HARDER. First paying for the puzzles and then paying for the solutions… What was I? A kind of gaming middle-man? There could be no pleasure, no honour in being led through the game like some dumb animal. What was I to do? I bought the official walkthrough but never read it. And THIS is the game that spat its R rated puzzles into my innocent face and proceeded to mock me, to haunt my waking dreams for over two decades…Īs my dismayed father realised only too late, THIS was no game for children (or for him). (Not only do now I empathise with the fate he foisted upon them, but, considering they grew up in this game, I now see how remarkably mentally stable they grew up to be).Īnyway, THIS is the game I first played as a small and naive child. Hear me, for on this dark and stormy night in the year of our Lord Twenty-Twenty-Three, I put the final page into the linking book of D’ni, stood before Atrus, and with the sound of victory loudly ringing in my ears, I barely heard him blather about his demented sons… After three decades of this ♥♥♥♥♥ of a game being out, I have at long last completed it.

Myst 1993