Successful Australian band grows to mistrust their manager so much they convert their giant guitar theme park from tourist attraction to combination lock, hiding their assets behind elaborate puzzle locks just to keep their manager from getting to it. Absurd, and yet still believable, even more so after watching the interview with the creator.
He’s seen it before: people go crazy when they get money, so of course they’d build a giant guitar off the coast of Australia, and of course their manager would make some bad investments with their money, so of course the bandmembers would use their giant guitar to hide their money from their manager. Of course!
It has an addicting quality to it. I put it down, wanting to take a break, only to give in to the urge to pick it up again because there are so many clues everywhere I look, all of them add up, and I don’t want to stop until they fall into place.
Alida is tantalizing like this. Playing with the equipment yields new information all the time, and watching it add up keeps me going back for more. Even when I am frustrated on a puzzle I can’t seem to make progress on, my mind drifts to something else, and behold! A few clues that add up!
Connections are everywhere! I can’t stop until I find them all!
I needed no walkthrough this time. Everything you need to solve the puzzles is in your environment, in plain sight. Pay attention, and connections becomes apparent. Alida was better the second time around because I found all the connections on my own. That one puzzle I solved by accident on my first playthrough? This time I figured out and I understood its logic. My only memory cheat was recalling the importance of flashing lights.
Alida deserves a high-rez remaster. It’s a superbly-designed adventure game, full of creativity and consistent internal logic. It shouldn’t be forgotten.