As a diehard fan of the Nintendo DS during its heyday (and well, I'm still a big fan of it now), I'd certainly heard of 999. It's not clear why I never played it around its original release in 2010. I even have a history of playing visual novels and point-and-click adventure-adjacent games like Ace Attorney and even stuff like Hotel Dusk. Having played the remaster now, I acknowledge I was definitely missing out, even though it's nice to play a version of the game with more modern amenities, including full voiceover for all dialogue in the game. I elected to play with Japanese voice acting in an effort to incorporate more Japanese immersion into my normal routine. It definitely made me look up a lot of words that kept reappearing—and it was always a joy to notice how many words I recognized already.
999 is a story with many branching pathways, though, and one excellent feature included with this version of the game is a detailed flowchart that affords the player the opportunity to quickly move to previously unlocked scenes to make different choices. This feature, combined with the ability to quickly zip through previously read dialogue, makes exploring each narrative path a breeze. I was shocked to read that the original version of the game had no such feature, meaning that if you wanted to see all the game had to offer, you had to play through the entire game again, over and over. If you happened to make a mistake and pick the wrong option? Well, I hope you saved recently, or you're playing it all over again.
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Because of the flow chart in this game, I really didn't have to look that much up to unlock all the endings. Every time I reached a bad ending, I'd go back and make different choices to see how that affected the way things progressed. It felt much more organic than having to meticulously hit a number of flags to get the desired outcome. Incidentally, this is exactly what I had to do in Steins;Gate. Although I enjoyed that game, I would have infinitely preferred a flow chart system like this one.
999 is a bit like a less wacky Danganronpa. There're no trials here, but of course, there's a lot of intrigue, mystery, and vividly described violence. Instead of densely plotted group discussions, 999's primary conceit lay in its puzzles, which range from relatively simple to fiendishly complex. I'll be the first to admit I'm not the strongest puzzler out there. I was confounded at one point in the story that the game seemed to expect me to just know Morse code in order to proceed. Of course, I happened to miss that there was a handy guide hidden nearby, and was jumping to conclusions, but still. In another puzzle, I was tasked with completing a 3x3 grid in which all lines added up to 15. I spent about an hour on this before giving up in disgust. It's no fault of the game, mind you, but this puzzle made me feel pretty stupid. I eventually discovered what "magic squares" were and learned there were many ways you could solve such a puzzle.
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There's probably nothing important in there. |
Even so, many of the puzzles left me with a satisfying feeling after I'd conquered them. It often felt my ability to solve one of these puzzles had more to do with my level of patience at that time than any particular skill on my part. My skill for such a task is nonexistent, but my persistence can sometimes override that. Frequently, in the case of puzzles that require shifting or moving things in a pattern, my method of attack has very little to do with tactics and much more to do with brute forcing a solution until the pieces fall into place. I'm not great at keeping multiple steps ahead in my mind, so working through it is the best way for me to figure things out. The best example I can think of there is a puzzle in which you're required to maneuver boxes around each other so that they all occupy a specific position on the side of a room. Instead of thinking about how best these could be arranged, I simply kept moving them in different patterns, observing which paths took me less time. Eventually, I found the path that could be done in the allocated number of moves through sheer trial and error.
I can't help but compare the way I tackle these puzzles to Into the Breach, which features combat encounters that frequently feel like puzzles of their own. My first instinct in that game was to go through the motions so I could internalize the outcome of my actions. Frequently, I would move too far ahead and complete moves that couldn't be undone—for which the game features a handy Reset Turn feature. Unfortunately, that game only allows you to do this once per combat, which often wasn't enough for me.
I've often thought of puzzles as something that just isn't for me, or that I just don't like them at all. I don't think this is actually true. I think I do like puzzles, but it's helpful when the way to solve a puzzle caters to the way I think. If I can move within a puzzle and operate within it, experiment with possible solutions within the framework it provides—that gives me something to work with. If the puzzle wants me to plan out something, memorize it, visualize the steps ahead in my mind—then that's just not going to work for me. I'm going to feel frustrated and entirely unable to progress. In the case of 999, this isn't often what the game asks you to do. It generally gives you room to experiment, so I found I enjoyed most of the puzzles in the game, even when some of the answers seemed frustratingly out of reach.
Ultimately, though, the narrative is what kept me interested. It's a mystery story, after all, and I've always liked mysteries. It's what kept me going in Danganronpa even as my distaste for so many of those characters grew. Comparatively, I like the characters in 999 pretty well, even though I cringe a little at how sexualized Lotus's design is. You learn more about each character as you go, in bits and pieces. The decisions you make along the way determine who you get to know on that particular path. As each character is assigned a number and each door has a number as well, there's some pretty simple math—a digital root—that determines which group of 3 to 5 contestants in this game can go through a particular door. Get through the door in time and deactivate your bracelets or you'll get exploded, so says Zero, the game's mysterious antagonist. During the game's opening, you're given a brutal demonstration of the veracity of those words.
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Verifying at the RED to unlock one of the game's doors. |
As you solve puzzles and uncover little items and artifacts that allow you access to other parts of the ship you're on, you'll also have the opportunity to make various choices, both in terms of where you'll be going, but also in what you'll say to other characters. These choices are important because it determines what these characters will tell you. Once you've gathered certain crucial pieces of information, you'll be able to use that meta-knowledge in order to make informed decisions in other paths of the game. You know what's behind Door #1 now, so let's try Door #2 next time. Each of the paths you take fills in the story of what's happening to you and your fellow participants in the Nonary Game, as well as what led them there.
I really enjoyed the game and felt like I couldn't put it down for the entire time I was playing it. I didn't get all the answers I was looking for in the end and I also feel like there's a plothole or two there, but I'm scared to look up any more specific answers because I think future entries in this series connect pretty specifically to this one, much like Danganronpa. Maybe once I've played them all, I'll meditate on the connections between these stories and try to piece it all together. I'm looking forward to it!