By Jacob Malin
By Jacob Malin
love not knowing what’ s going on. At least
I when it comes to fiction, I’ m a sucker for the thrill of uncertainty. I don’ t think there’ s any work of fiction that’ s satisfied that desire for me quite as well as the first two games in the Zero Escape series. 999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors and Virtue’ s Last Reward both feature the same basic premise: the protagonist, kidnapped by a mysterious masked figure called Zero, awakens in a sealed facility along with eight strangers and is forced to play a life-and-death“ Nonary Game.” To survive and escape, the nine participants must explore the place where they are trapped, solve seemingly arbitrary puzzles, and, through teamwork or selfishness, fulfill the conditions to unlock the door to the exit.
Within the games, the characters discuss the way the Nonary Games evoke two responses at once: danger and epiphany. The unwilling participants are afraid for their lives, but that fear motivates them to solve the problems the game presents them with, to navigate the confusing issues of trusting strangers, and to understand what’ s going on and seek a way out. The games drew me in so completely because they put me, as the player, in that same position( or a somewhat safer version from the comfort of my home). Everything constantly felt like it was on the verge of falling apart, and every choice felt impossibly precarious. Even so, I enjoyed exploring the various directions the plot could take based on what I did. I was always thrilled when I managed to find some new area or clue that hadn’ t turned up before, and even if my worst fears often proved well-founded and everyone ended up dead, I was secure in the knowledge that I could eventually go back and fix my mistakes.
I typically avoid horror in all forms, because otherwise I can’ t sleep at night. But even though the Zero Escape games had moments that were tense or utterly terrifying, they never seemed hopeless. Instead, the tension felt like a challenge to find a way through. As lost and uncertain as the early stages of both games made me feel, I enjoyed that feeling, because I trusted that the games knew what they were doing, that the way out existed somewhere. Interestingly, a big part of this trust was a certainty that I would be, in a sense, betrayed – that some of my deepest assumptions about the game and the characters would turn out to be wrong. And across both games they were, time and again. The character I trusted most