Review for Zof
“You’ll probably get stuck,” says developer Pete Wilkins in the description of Zof, his challenging first-person, free-roaming puzzle adventure. When a game is promoted as “not a pushover,” promises “exasperation” and ensures “no hand holding,” it sure sounds like a fun date. The question is whether such difficulty is derived from clever puzzles requiring logical deduction, careful observation, and lateral thinking, or whether it’s just a poorly clued recipe for frustration. In the case of Zof, I was pleasantly surprised that the majority of puzzles fell into the former camp, and despite a few jagged edges and some design inconsistencies, I found the journey through its beautifully rendered lonely landscapes filled with enigmatic machinery to be largely intriguing and rewarding. And yes, I did get stuck. But only a little.
As much as I love the old classic Myst, it’s been nearly thirty years since its release. Not every 3D environmental puzzler needs to be directly linked to it as a “Myst-like.” I mean, sure, Zof begins with a short animation that makes it clear you’ve just arrived from another world of some kind and now stand on a rocky island, listening to the gentle sound of wind and waves, without a clue as to what you need to do or how to do it. And yes, there are strange mechanical devices sporting switches and buttons with unclear functions, and circular domed houses with doors that won’t open. I should probably also mention that you can travel through portals from the main hub area to a variety of otherworldly locales that contain strange mixtures of desolate scenery, classical architecture, and technology that skirts the line between sci-fi and steampunk. But just because there are telescopes and sound-based puzzles and clock towers that jut out of the water doesn’t mean – okay, fine, it’s a lot like Myst.
Even though it wears its influence on its sleeve, Zof is not without its own identity. For one thing, there is no story, and while that may be a disappointment to some, the omission manages to paradoxically give the game both flexibility and focus. Because nothing has to be narratively justified (e.g. “Um, this is the long abandoned village of the, er, Arcadian people, and I guess it would take them at least half an hour just to open any door.”), this allows the freedom to bring in all kinds of surrealism that would be difficult to explain in a more grounded setting. At first I wondered who might have created the endlessly assembling and disassembling medieval terraces hovering a mile over a mountainous landscape. And I tried to imagine the possible uses for a spherical robot in a non-Euclidean garden maze. But by the time I was floating through a sea of color-changing cubes, I had long decided these questions were quite pointless. A couple of these realms and ideas were a bit too abstract for my liking, and it made it difficult to grasp what possible logic and sense of order I was supposed to pull out of such madness, but I can’t deny that I admire the experimentation.
I mentioned focus because, while there is much variety in the environments and types of puzzles, each area you visit is entirely centered on its own corresponding obstacle. There are no interconnecting levels, no clues found in one place that need to be held onto for another later on, and no notes, journal entries, or items lying around just to fill out the space or add to the lore. Some areas have multiple stages within them that build in terms of complexity, but ultimately even these stand alone in their logic. In terms of solving puzzles, this helped me come to each new locale knowing that I hadn’t missed something previously that would be necessary for a solution, and I could simply concentrate on what was present. On the other hand, I couldn’t shake the sense that there was an uncanny emptiness to it all. Each world exists entirely to house its puzzle, and each puzzle exists entirely to be solved, nothing more. It may be presented stylishly and even beautifully in some cases, but it certainly isn’t lived-in.
The puzzles themselves, though, are generally well-designed, requiring a mix of careful observation, experimentation, pattern recognition, and logical deduction. Trial and error is usually critical in the early stages of an area, as you try to figure out how the machinery and other elements interact, but arriving at a solution will demand an understanding of how things work, and just as importantly, what exactly needs to happen. In one level, a series of buttons controls the rotation of some large metal discs. By the time I finally realized generally how all the buttons worked together, the question became, “so what should I do with them?” After further observation I formed a hypothesis about that, and was then faced with yet another challenge of how to achieve it with the tools provided. Most puzzles you encounter are similarly layered, and by the time you hear the final “clunk” and the door opens, you’ll be feeling a real sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.
The difficulty of the puzzles varies. Although most of them lean to the harder side, some areas are so simple that I completed them in less than five minutes. One particular recurring-level type that has you keeping track of colors and shapes emanating from beacons on floating islands (a lot of things float in this game) seemed intentionally basic, as even the final one in the series didn’t take much thought, but the way they were interspersed between more difficult levels let them function almost as palate-cleansers, allowing the dopamine hit of an easy solve before sending you back to the puzzle mines to chip away at the next head-scratcher that might take half an hour or more of fiddling.
I managed to complete the game in a little over ten hours without the use of a walkthrough, so although there were a handful of times that I felt sure I was going to need to look online for a hint, some flash of insight or discovery of something I hadn’t noticed before would get me unstuck and back to making progress. On the whole, the puzzles are fair and not overly complex or esoteric, but you will often feel initially that there just isn’t enough information to go on. In one area of snow-covered ruins, when I was banging my head (metaphorically) against some rune-engraved stone pillars, my six-year-old walked up and started watching, and within a couple of minutes he pointed out a particular subtle change happening that I had completely overlooked, which turned out to be the key information I needed.
The atmosphere of this world and the creativity in its visual design were often the first things I looked forward to discovering as I moved from area to area. The outdoor environments in particular are striking, from wide, overcast oceans to desert sunsets to mist-shrouded forests, all sprinkled with anachronistic blends of architecture and machines. Some of the textures lack fidelity up close, but overall the Unreal engine is put to good use, with realistically rendered terrain and structures softly lit by beautiful skies. Subtle animated touches bring it to life, like a flock of birds high above, or gently rolling waves below. The attention to detail extends to the various devices as well, which fold, slide, and spin into place with satisfying clicks and whirs. The design in each level is often an interesting mix of natural beauty and man-made buildings and objects spanning time periods from ancient, like an Egyptian tomb, to modern day, such as steel girders and steam valves, to a far future, like portals and holograms. There’s a secluded grove with what looks like floating (there it is again) Celtic ruins, futuristic energy posts and rusty mid-20th-century radio devices all occupying the same space. When this kind of visual menagerie works, it’s imaginative and effective.
It doesn’t always quite work, though. Sometimes the mix of styles is jarring and breaks the immersion, feeling more cobbled together than designed with intent. In a maze of ivy-covered brick walls adorned with stone angels sits an ugly beige computer-like device that wouldn’t look out of place in a 70s sci-fi TV show. Further on is a—wait for it—floating robot made from scrap metal. The effect is a bit strange, and not aesthetically consistent. Sometimes it’s less the individual elements that are being incongruously mixed and more the art styles. In a desert level, the first half of the area features a low-poly, untextured aesthetic that suddenly and inexplicably changes to a more detailed, realistic style as you walk to the other half of the area. There’s at least one other level in which this kind of change is played to purposeful effect, but here it only stripped away any suspension of disbelief I might have had.
The sound design is sparse but effective. There’s actually no music at all until the end credits, so you’re left with the quiet ambience of wind and waves, the whirring and chiming of futuristic technology, and the mechanical groans of old machines in desperate need of oil. Some of the interior levels felt a little too quiet, and some musical accompaniment or a few more layers of ambient sound might have helped, but overall I appreciated the calm, contemplative approach.
You move around with keyboard and mouse in free-roaming first-person perspective, and there’s a reticle in the middle of the screen that animates whenever it’s pointed at something you can interact with, so I never found myself stuck on a puzzle because I didn’t know something was usable. The movement feels natural but I encountered a few glitches here and there, and in one instance I got stuck between a rock and a hard place (a wall, I think) and had to quit the level and go back in. Fortunately the game saves your progress regularly, so nothing much was lost.
The menu is comprised of no text, only symbols, most of which are generally familiar, but I did have to make some guesses. I thought at first that there wasn’t a way to leave a level until you finished it, but when I tried to quit for the evening, I clicked a button that actually sent me out of the level and back to the hub world. Turns out it was the other button that was for quitting the game. I was glad that this was an option, though, because the first two-thirds of the game are non-linear, and if you get stuck in one area, you can back out and try another.
All in all, I enjoyed my time puzzling through the strange worlds of Zof. If you’re a fan of Myst because of its story and lore, then you might be disappointed with Zof’s lack of narrative, although the very end of the game, which I found satisfying, at least hints at a reason for the journey. Generally, though, Zof plays out almost like an interactive art show, an intellectually stimulating exhibition of surreal landscapes and puzzle ideas for you to wander through at your own pace. It can feel a little disjointed at times, and some parts of the design work better than others, but if you’re up for some difficult but logical challenges and don’t mind not ever being offered any guidance, then I think you’ll find Zof is a journey worth taking. And yes, you’ll probably get stuck. But maybe only a little.
