The Most Desirable Inventory Item – Article

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Most of us go through life — real life, that is — wanting more or less the same things. We want money, prestige, good looks, good jobs, good mates, good health. But in the world of the adventure game what are any of these? Worthless.

Okay, so money still comes in pretty handy, even in digitaldom. But we’re not talking about amassing great wealth. Usually we’re looking for a single coin. A dime, a quarter. Often bearing the imprinted image of some funny-sounding fictional character. How often have we run across great piles, huge mountains of gold and precious gems in an adventure game only to realize that we must have taken a wrong turn someplace. Only in an adventure game can vast riches be — disappointing. I’ve learned not to even touch the huge pile of swag because more often than not it ends the game in the blink of an eye.

What then do we wander through all those hallways and gardens and spaceships for in adventure games? Well, depending on the game developer, it could be a lot of things. As well as lots of things. But to an astonishing degree, certain items show up with great regularity in adventure games, since the dawn of that first cave crawl and the shenanigans at Infocom. Many of these items have become “famous” in their own right, beloved icons of the genre.

But I’m not talking about the item that shows up the most, or even the item you’re most fond of. I’m talking about the inventory item that affords you the most bliss when you find it. What is the item that you most lust after when you start any new adventure game? What object will provide you with the greatest peace of mind? In other words, what one object do you believe will most likely signal a successful outcome to the game?

Surely the lantern is the most famous adventure game inventory item. It’s legendary. Sometimes it even talks to you, keeping you company through the game. One might even say that the lantern is the most beloved inventory item. Or, the most amusing. But the lantern almost always is handed to you right at the beginning. Heck, it even usually has batteries or oil in it. It’s very comforting, it’s very useful, lighting the way, but it’s not a true object of Desire. Besides, you know it’s most likely to go dead at the most crucial moment. Lanterns, in short, are fun, but fickle.

When you’re playing a first person shooter, you don’t have to wonder about such things. Worry is another matter. But you know what you want. You want the offensive weapon with the most destructive power. Usually portable. You never see anyone hunting around for tanks in an action game. That would kill all the expensive scenery first and foremost. No, you’re looking for some sort of fast loading shoulder cannon. Perhaps the best thing about first person shooters is that you just get happier and happier during the course of the game as you keep stumbling upon bigger and badder weapons of mass destruction. Peculiarly, this, unlike the adventure game, is more like real life. If, that is, in real life you’re a psychotic mass murderer. Which, alas, far too many of us are.

Of course, people in real life don’t as a rule run around looking for bigger weapons, but they do run around looking for more actual leverage. In the real world, status is the main leverage. In action games, it’s weaponry. In the adventure game, however, more often than not you’re trying to do the exact opposite. You’re usually looking for the object of least significance in the game. You’re desperately searching for the humblest, tiniest, scrawniest item. You want that scrap of orange peel so you can use it to tempt the billy goat so it will kick down the big road sign, which will stop the traffic and . . . well, you know the rest.

Why are adventure games like this? Why do they so often relish mocking our real world aspirations and wants? Why aren’t more of them designed like first person shooters, giving us more of the same things we want in reality? Frankly, I don’t know. But I suspect it has something to do with the sense of humor. People who play first person shooters aren’t really looking for an escape from real life. They’re looking to hone their skills, their killer instincts. The adventure game is far more likely to point out the fact that a videogame is fake reality. Getting a million dollars in a game is not an accomplishment because you can’t really spend it. What does have “real” value in a game? The thing that helps you progress through the game itself, of course. And that can be anything. Or anything that the game designer chooses it to be. Finding that orange peel is, in “reality” an accomplishment. Because it helps you finish the game. So there is something real in a videogame — the gameplay. Just as watching a great movie gives you real entertainment, successfully completing a good game gives you a real high, and even a low grade sense of accomplishment.

So what about the gun? Lots of adventure games have guns. Not all adventure games have been written by the court jesters at LucasArts and Sierra On-Line. Some adventure games are dead serious, even noirish. The gun can be very useful. Yes, but it doesn’t really satisfy. First off, you know they’re not going to let you shoot anyone with it. Like the piles of riches, I’ve learned not to even bother trying to shoot anybody, no matter how evil the character may be, no matter how ripe for homicide. You know that the second you pull the trigger you’re going to get a little lecture inside a dialog box about how violence never solves anything. Sheesh, talk about non-reality. Look around, would you? Violence is the primo choice for solving problems the world over. Besides, nine times out of ten when you get the gun in an adventure game, it’s not loaded. You have to find the bullets. Or, more likely, bullet. The gun is like those great toys you got as a kid that never came with batteries or any of the fancy extras they showed in the commercials. Often the gun in an adventure game is not even used as a gun. You need to hock it at the nearest pawn shop so you can get the quarter that will enable you to go to the rundown grocer’s and buy that last mangy orange . . .

Forget the gun. It’s loaded with difficulties.

For a long time I used to think it was the rope. Rope is very comforting. When I get the rope I stop worrying about accessing places. All I need is to find a nearby, sturdy anchor, tie my rope and I’m down in that gully in a flash. However, the rope became too popular for its own good. Game designers realized that people caught on to the rope. The element of surprise was gone. So the rope became a poor man’s gun. It’s one of those sops the game designer throws to you early in the game to make you think you’re all set. Then you spend the next week trying to tie it to every single solitary thing in the game world, meeting with sour disappointment time and time again. The rope, alas, has joined the bulging ranks of the Adventure Game Red Herring Society. It’s just too obvious, too good to be true, for game designers to employ it seriously any more. Oh sure, they toss one into pretty much every adventure game, but that’s mostly laziness on their part. And it’s easy to draw.

The rope is like the poor magic wand, which was a joke from the very first. What could possibly sound more useful than a magic wand? Yeah, well don’t even bother. Just drop it, if you can. Make room in your sack for something useful, like sneezing powder.

Let’s get serious here. What are some real candidates for most desirable adventure game inventory item?

The key, of course. The key is never a red herring. You always get to use the key someplace. The key is a very strong contender. Except for one thing. You know darn well it never opens more than one door or one treasure chest. And there are bound to be dozens more where they came from before you’re through. Sure, the key is great. But only momentarily. It doesn’t truly satisfy, because you know you’re going to be discarding it any second only to look for the next one, and the next, and the next. And don’t even mention the “set of keys.” When in your entire time of playing adventure games has there ever been more than one workable key on that keyring? Never, that’s when. The single key is always welcome. The set of keys is always a heartbreaker.

What about the box of matches? Sometimes coming in the form of a pack of matches. Now we’re getting warmer. The box/pack of matches is a true contender for the prize. Okay, like gun ammo, you rarely get more than one match in the box. But it’s almost always a crucial item. And, unlike the key, chances are once you do find a use for the match, you won’t need any more. The other great thing about the matches is the package itself. Game designers often slap important clues on the inside cover of the pack of matches. And you can occasionally use the box for something else, like catching an insect. You know, a fly or an ant, nothing too disgusting. Another plus for the matches is that, to date, I can’t think of any lectures that have come attached to their use. No dialog box messages from Smokey the Bear. Yes, getting the matches always fills me with contentment.

Then there’s the screwdriver. If it isn’t the box/pack of matches, it has to be the screwdriver. Doesn’t it? I mean, what makes you happier than the screwdriver? The screwdriver is far better than the knife. The knife is another member of the Red Herring Society. Not only do you get that identical lecture about violence that you got when you tried to pull the trigger on the gun, but the knife is . . . you know it . . . you can sense it . . . you don’t even have to try to cut that gossamer thread . . . the knife is never, ever, never, ever sharpened. Whereas the screwdriver doesn’t have to be modified to work like a charm. Moreover, the screwdriver can be magnetized, which often is just the thing you need to suck that quarter out of the sewer grate, so you can run the seventeen screens back to the rundown grocer’s to buy the mangy orange . . .

Seriously, I think the screwdriver is a very, very serious applicant for the title. When was the last time you tried to use the screwdriver and you got a message telling you that, alas, it no longer turns screws? Never. Not even game designers can try to throw that one past a paying customer. Moreover, the screwdriver is one of the very few inventory items that a game will allow you to use more than once. Unlike the key, you can keep using it throughout the game. It not only turns screws, it pries off covers, it pokes holes in things, and it activates those nasty switches that are always just beyond your reach. The screwdriver I’m pretty sure is it. I cannot think of a single screwdriver in an adventure game that turned out to be a red herring. It’s also the only item that shows up all the time in games that has not become an object of ridicule by the writers. How would you make fun of a screwdriver anyway? It’s easy to poke fun at people’s real desire for money, or for weapons. But you can’t ridicule someone for wanting a screwdriver.

In fact, the only two potential Achilles heels I can even think of in regards to the screwdriver is the whole flathead versus Philips issue and that alcoholic beverage that goes by the same name. But I honestly can’t think of a commercial adventure game that tried to pull either of these two fast ones on you. In the first case, at worst you’d simply be looking for two screwdrivers instead of one, and in the second, why the solution would be easy. Once you find the vodka, all you have to do is squeeze the mangy orange into the mason jar. After you’ve removed the peel, of course.

Yes, I think that’s really it. The screwdriver is the Most Desirable Inventory Object. Unfortunately, since this is only a game, there’s no actual cash reward. There is, however, still that low grade sense of accomplishment. So — with an honorable mention to the box/pack of matches — here’s to you, screwdriver. Cheers.