Trespasser Developer: Dreamworks Interactive Publisher: Electronic Arts Release Date: October 27, 1998 By Randy Sluganski

A short quiz before we begin the review. What is the following noise ... thump ... thump ... thump?

1. A tyrannosaurus rex stalking me through the jungle.
2. The sound in my head after trying to configure Trespasser to run smoothly on my system.
3. My wife coming into the computer room at 2 a.m. scolding me to get my butt to bed or I'll be late for work tomorrow.

Those readers who are married know of course that the correct answer is 3.

My Island Diary--Day 1

10:37 a.m.
I have been wandering aimlessly on this godforsaken island for the past two hours. The wrecked remains of the plane I was on are strewn about the ocean, some sections have washed ashore. My immediate goal is to find a means of escape. That only seems possible if I find some means of communication via which I can phone for help.

12:35 p.m.
I am still attempting to find a way off the first level of this island. I feel as though I am in a Nintendo game. When I approach objects in the deserted village I found off the beach, captions appear above my head: "press and hold the right mouse button to grasp objects" or "to shoot, press the space bar." Very strange indeed. My sense of direction is useless as I can only seem to move in a linear predetermined direction. I have also made two very startling discoveries. First, I seem to have acquired superhuman strength. I am now able to grasp and swing two-by-fours and steel girders using only my right hand. It appears that the physics-based engine in this world is slightly askew. Second, it seems I am suddenly a woman. I discovered this when I looked down and saw cleavage. Imagine my shock! And not only cleavage, mind you, but also a tattoo of a heart on my left breast. The tattoo doubles as my health meter. I find myself checking my health meter quite a bit.

8:35 p.m.
I have finally found my way through a gate. I attempted for over an hour to stack some boxes on top of each other and climb over the fence, but some nefarious soul seems to have coated the boxes with Vaseline. I tried to stack the boxes next to each and climb them as I would steps, but they kept slipping from beneath my feet. I find it impossible to climb over my obstacle. For that matter, I find attempting to climb even a medium sized hill or a tree unattainable. Finally, in frustration, I just pushed the gate and it swung open. It seems that every impediment I encounter has two or three obvious solutions. The difficulty is in controlling the awkward movements of my new body. My exertions have left me very tired, and I must now rest.

My Island Diary--Day 2

6:33 a.m.
I awoke early to the cheerful chirping of birds and the raucous cacophony of wildlife. The sounds on this tropical island are diverse and beautiful. I swear I heard the throaty roar of dinosaurs in my sleep. How silly.

7:05 a.m.
I begin my journey anew. My explorations have led me to some abandoned and wrecked jeeps and a small pistol. I take the pistol even though I pray that using it will not be necessary. Up ahead there is a signpost. As I approach, a voice booms out, as if from the heavens, and narrates a history of Island B. The voice sounds suspiciously like Sir Richard Attenborough. I look around, but there is no one in sight. I have a vague memory of this island from a story in the National Enquirer years ago. I push on through the foliage and suddenly in front of me, there it is ... a brachiosaurus. I shake my head in bewilderment, not at the brachiosaurus, but at the sound of the lush full-orchestra music booming from seemingly nowhere. The music follows me and then fades out as I discover a teetering bridge that I must cross to get to the other side of this island. I hear a noise in the brush behind and luckily am able to keep my wits as I shoot and kill a raptor right between its beady reptilian eyes.

8:55 a.m.
After numerous misguided attempts, I am finally across the bridge. How frustrating it is to know how to solve a puzzle but to be limited by the restrictions imposed upon me by my creator. Just attempting to swing an object without dropping it is a major accomplishment. I try telling myself that it is like I am playing a real-life game of Quake. Only I am walking very slowly, as if I am caught in a tar pit. Some people would probably mistake my predicament as an adventure. Only a misguided soul who has played nothing but action games his entire life would consider this an adventure. I contest that these are the same people who would not know an adventure game if it bit them in the asp. Stacking boxes atop each other and using keycards in doors is not my idea of adventure. I am no Lara Croft wannabe. I will escape from this island alive! I am now hearing that mysterious omnipotent voice more often. I look down and ...

Editor's Note: We were able to discern the following from some shredded scraps of paper and some heretofore unscreened footage from the island security cameras.

We loaded the footage onto our 200 MMX, 96 MB machine equipped with a Voodoo 1 card. We ran the graphics at an optimum 600x800 screen with full-quality resolution and while we did see the lush tropical island that Anne spoke of, the film ran so slowly that we were soon in a trance-like state. We fiddled with the video quality, greatly reducing the screen size and the resolution. While the speed was much improved, the pixelation was unbearable. In one frame, it does appear as though a giant pixelated female bovine is stalking through the undergrowth.

Our expensive joysticks are unusable (imagine if we could use a force feedback joystick!). We have been reduced to an unfortunate control combination of keyboard and mouse. As we are not very manually adroit, we soon found our arms twisted around our heads as if we were involved in some demonic game of Twister. Though the keyboard commands were simplistic, we did find it difficult to control much of our movement.

Our final analysis may disappoint many, but we have to believe that, due to the bad control and the pixelation, that this island simply does not exist. The dinosaurs in Anne's diary were simply a delusion of a mind gone mad. Maybe someday there will be such an adventure and then this will be looked upon as the groundbreaker, but it will take better machinery than many of us now have to derive any satisfaction in this lost world. If we were to assign a grade to this entire sordid story, it would have to be a C.

Final Grade: C