Barcarolle in Yellow

for Interpreter (Glulx)

Outside of Italy, nerds love using the term giallo (yellow) to name a specific kind of Italian mystery thrillers or horror. Originating from the yellow jackets which foreign genre novels (ranging from Agatha Christie to Edgar Wallace) had been published with in Italy since the 1930s. In the world of moving pictures, the 1960s brought a new style, inspired by the German Edgar Wallace films and some Hitchcock movies. Relying on highly stylised imagery, accompanied by bombastic music. The plot subjects revolved around vulgarised Freudian themes, though explicit logic often took second row. Fans insisted that below all that, there was actually a clear set of rules at work nevertheless. Just that it was based on emotions and subjective stream of consciousness. As the first decade of our millennium came to a close, the genre which had actually run its course by the early 1980s started being rediscovered internationally.

Barcarolle in Yellow takes pretty much the only possible way to still move in circles of such a kitsch genre: it goes straight to meta level. Starting out with a punch in the guts right away:

The following opening scene is almost as strong: seemingly in the role of a prostitute in the so-called “Wild West”, it is revealed only few turns later that all this is just a film set. We're actually playing a young actress looking for her big break through the production of a thriller set in 1970s Venice. All throughout, the narrative remains intentionally vague with respect to the reality of what is said and told.

Arriving at the station, we're immediately pursued by a mad killer, even though the shoot hasn't even begun. In the hotel, wanting to wash off dirt and sweat of the journey, the bathtub scene is described with a very male gaze – as if it were a highly voyeuristic movie scene. Since there is a killer roaming around, the danger of dying is all around. Though when it happens, a number of game over screens don't just contain the regular “restart”, “restore” and “quit”, but also the otherwise unknown option “end scene”. Which then leads to the (finally completely surreal) continuation of the game.

The latter is quite a coup on the narrative metal level. At the same time, author Ojuel shows bravery to stage, stylise his own work. What if players don't look closely and overlook this option? Yes, this is a risk. Though on the other hand: those who spot it will appreciate it all the more!

This, however, concerns the ending, or what at first glance appears to be the ending. On the way there, Ujuel does not show quite the same courage. Those scenes in which the protagonist starts commenting things quite directly are less effective. “If this were a movie, the camera would now stay on my legs.” Yes, correct. However, just spelling out the omnipresent sexism in the giallo genre removes any subversion. Rejection of such objectification is a broad consensus in our society these days. It only makes the player nod, there is nothing disturbing about it.

On top, there is what the game teaches us on the path to its ending. Real interactivity is occasionally lost. A strict script existing only in the author's mind has to be followed. At each point in time, there is exactly one thing to do in one way. The former is usually communicated very openly. Sometimes, it even takes the form of a script handed to the protagonist in-game (meta…). Sometimes, there are more or less obvious hints given by the narrator. So far, so good. This reflects the lack of empowerment, of agency of such roles as the one taken in the game as well as their actresses at the time (assumption).

Though concerning the how, meaning the implementation of the instructions, the game is unbelievably finicky, but at the same time leaves its players alone with it. Exact, non-obvious command wordings are expected as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Alternative wordings effectively meaning the same are just not accepted. Neither is straying from the solution path. This not only makes progress unnecessarily difficult, but removes the strongest option of understanding, learning something through autonomous exploration from the narrative.

These significant implementation weaknesses are unforgivable. Beyond this obvious criticism, this begs the question of whether fun is a necessary condition for positive reception of a game. Making the ostensible protagonist into a pawn who does not drive the plot turns the playing experience difficult for sure.

Then again, the overall play time is short; even the first run should not take longer than an hour. After that, additional attempts will be necessary to understand the whole thing. But it can be approached in a targeted way, once again not overstaying its welcome.

On this background, I'm happy to give my personal answer to the question as a resounding [b]No[/i]. Meta art such as this must be allowed. The live experience may be bumpy, but its value shows in retrospect.

Does this make Barcarolle in Yellow into the final word on giallo? Far from it. It does not attempt to be an all-encompassing meta comment, but rather picks few specifics which is wants to cover. This sometimes works well, sometimes not so much. Likely, the narrative skill to get things across implicitly was missing in a couple of places. Though then, there are those unexpectedly strong moments. Like for example when the perceived protagonist is ordered around, shouted at. Like when the observations, the fears are not taken seriously. Like when conspiracy powers are at work which are definitely not intended to be ever explained. A more streamlined playing experience would have made some of this impossible.

Which makes this a valuable contribution to the discourse about what giallo was, how we receive works of media and the views on roles and values behind all that. At the same time, the game manages to make some points of self-reflection, playing with the conventions of interactive narrative specifically. Together, this means it places itself two levels above the usual computer game fare. In spite of all its weaknesses.