"It's so odd, it's so strange, and we're hoping it motivates you to figure out the mystery and learn a little bit more about how this all came to be." "We hope all of it pushes you forward a little bit," he says, adding that for him and his team, the setting has always come before the puzzles. That very bizarreness invites exploration, and Miller tells me that's been the point all along. And to think, all this takes place in a strange world where what looks like a '50s suburban home, an 1880s mining town, and a seeming copy-paste of the southern Arizona desert reside in a dome on a clearly alien planet with purple, bulbous rocks and planets looming overhead. It's not long before I'm chatting with some dude in an airtight tank through his window, and I laugh with satisfaction at how I see him as an actor filmed in real life rather than a 3D model, just as in proper classic Myst. I start to see where the pieces of Miller's puzzle, seemingly unrelated, start to fit together. I've poked around enough to know where it's going, so I follow the flow and handle some other environmental puzzle I'd spoil if I explained. I pull the right lever, and water rushes out. Rand Miller himself, a deity of design, is offering me hints or outright solutions, and I turn him down because I'm too deep in the game's genesis to make good use of his revelations. I'm wondering if I'm just dumb or if some of these things could be bugged. Truth is, in another window I'm still running around the opening town pulling levers and pushing buttons that do nothing.
#Myst puzzles code
contact shot me a code for the game itself, and I sheepishly respond that I "haven't got that far" when he asks where I am. (It's out now on Steam.) Two days earlier his P.R. It's puzzling enough that he's so calm just a handful of days ahead of the release of his latest game Obduction, a crowdfunded "spiritual successor" to Myst that grabbed more than $1,300,000 when Miller and Cyan announced it on Kickstarter in 2013.
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