izigame.me

Magical fantasy/fairy-tale point’n’click that is easy on the eyes and hard on the chores-like fetch quests. Just like many other Daedalic titles, this one falls short of its glorious potential by uber-concentrating on the visuals and sound and slacking on puzzles and storyline. Is this a bad game? Absolutely not. Could this game be a lot better? Absolutely yes. The sum of its parts brings it to a hesitant “thumbs-up”, although I can’t picture myself excitedly “recommending” this game to my adventure pals. That’s what “Edna and Harvey” is for.
Jerry has always wanted to become a magician, and on the last few days of his summer vacation he has a chance to see his dream come true. The whole event of him going from a regular boy to a magician apprentice in a different world is rather hurried and takes but a few minutes in the beginning of the game, but who cares about particulars of this sudden transformation when you have a whole new world to explore, one filled with talking animals at that! Of course, Jerry is the one that is believed to help the local residents to overcome a menacing, still not quite defined threat, and, of course, the surefire way to do this is to… run the grocery list of tasks everyone has for him. What did you think saving the world requires? Something special? No. You’ve got to bake, fix, deliver mail, cook and organize activities for the insufferable teenagers if you want to become a magician and, especially, if you’re on a hero mission. Not all of them wear capes, some of them wear suspenders and prepare well-peppered cheese fondue, because that’s the only thing a hungry guard can eat. We’ve all been there.
Let’s talk about these puzzles some more. Not only do they make the game feel artificially inflated and full of back-and-forth, but the main sin such puzzle design commits is drastically lowering the stakes of the game and, therefore, robbing it of a sense of urgency and… grandness, for the lack of better word. Here we are, not only surrounded by all this magic, but we’re told the darkness is being gathered over this vulnerable world, and yet we’re being asked to prepare a cake for a party, be a local Amazon service, cure a flu, and find a good stand-up joke. It’s almost palpable how TNotR steps on its own toes when it comes to pacing and, ultimately, its identity. In some games smaller tasks make sense, and even fetch quests would work, if done correctly, but you can’t set me up for a Narnia level of magic and then have me do arbitrary tasks, like doing coffee runs. There are some cool moments there, when Jerry ACTUALLY gets to deal with magical creatures and powers, but they end up visually striking but unchallenging, while majority of the time will be spent in convoluted errands, and even a rather unique (optional, for the most part) minigame won’t change the overall situation.
Now let’s talk about “visually striking” part some more. This game, along with plenty other Daedalic creations, is a delicious eye-candy. Vast, detailed worlds full of magnificent color work and shading, phenomenal attention to detail and splendid, lengthy animations, a-la old-school Disney cartoons, aren’t just captivating but self-indulgent in that. TNotR is work of art, and it knows it. And it shows you it knows it by turning even non-important interactions into an animation showcase whenever it can, often going for extensive cinematic cuts that just about bring you to “when-will-this-be-over-I-actually-want-to-play” edge. It’s a high-maintenance beauty queen – a bit exhausting with all that focus on looks but hard not to appreciate, and it takes “if you’ve got it – flaunt it” motto seriously. I should probably take notes.
Soundscape is just as cinematic but a bit less showy. Great understated score that piles on even more “old-school cartoon” charm and ties in everything with the high level of polish and style. Voice-work is wonderfully done, even slightly nasal tone of Jerry makes him sound more like a kid next door who simply doesn’t want summer to be over. The supporting cast is supreme – from cheeky leprechaun to calming storyteller to jaunty radio host – all performed splendidly, adding tremendous amount of character to the fantasy fairytale world. Doubled-up with looks it makes for quite a stunner.
At this point, I feel compelled to make a comparison to a dessert or a pastry. Imagine seeing the most scrumptious looking, delightfully smelling, fresh out of the oven bun, or a cookie, or whatever it is you prefer. It looks so good and smells so good that you’re anticipating that mouthwatering bite, barely able to wait while the cashier takes your money and hands you the warm paper bag. Here you are, close your eyes, inhale the aroma and take a bite and taste… warm, freshly baked blandness. There is no strong flavor, no soft, buttery texture, no promising sweetness… nothing much at all. Sure, it’s not bad by any means, it was just hand-made, looks enticing and smells alluring, and you can even think of a friend or two who’d say “this is really good”, and yet you, as a long-time pastry connoisseur, are very aware that you’ve tried things from a local hole-in-the-wall that looked nowhere near as fancy and left you with unforgettable taste memory for months. That your grandma who whips up something even simpler will outdo this pastry, based on taste, by light years, and, hell, even you can work yourself up to make something full of flavor on the weekend, even if it comes out of the oven a bit lopsided and dark at the edges…
Well, this game is just like that. Then again, there’s a time and place for everything. We’ve all dropped by a famous pastry shop, tempted by recommendations, or caught ourselves craving that freshly baked warmness, willing to sacrifice taste, since nothing that had both was readily available. And no one really regretted it much or thought it was a waste, no, just didn’t quite commit the moment to memory – exactly how I feel about The Night of The Rabbit.