This review will contain minor spoilers for The Cat Lady. If
you are so inclined I recommend that you go play it right now without knowing
anything about it, which is how I experienced it.
The Cat Lady is an indie horror adventure game from
Harvester Games/Screen 7, who previously developed a game called Downfall,
which I haven’t played yet (a situation I intend to remedy swiftly).
Susan Ashworth is a reclusive woman in her mid-40s who opens
the game by committing suicide. In a suitably dreamlike journey through
purgatory, she encounters a specter in the form of an old woman who calls
herself The Queen of Maggots. The Queen explains that she is returning Susan to
life to perform a task for her; murder five supposedly quite nasty people that
she calls “the parasites”, and in the process she is to learn to cherish her
own life again. To aid her in her quest, the Queen of Maggots curses Susan with
immortality— she can be beaten, chopped, screwed and mutilated beyond
recognition, only to be revived a short time later.
I was on board with the premise right away, but skeptical
after being let down by poorly executed indie fare in the past. Thankfully my
faith was rewarded with what proved to be one of the most compelling video game
stories around. Susan’s journey of redemption is human and relatable—one of the
most harrowing sequences in the story is centered around an argument between
her and her former spouse—and the paper doll characters stew with personality.
I was pleasantly surprised with the production values on
offer, particularly in the audio department. There is a haunting, crisp score,
with occasional dips into straight-up industrial rock grind—the scraping,
pounding intro song at the climax of chapter one especially left me hooked.
This gem is not without its flaws, however, as much as I
loved the overall package. The pin-and-tween animation style is not for
everybody (I have a friend who vocally denounced the entire thing based on the
visuals), and while it’s true that it’s a hallmark of pompous
pseudo-intellectual murk, I feel that here it’s used to pretty suitable effect.
As the game goes on, however, it becomes obvious where corners have been cut
for the sake of animation. Sometimes character sprites in scarcely-used
positions warp and bob from side to side rather than properly animate. In a
later sequence Mitzi (with a z and an i), an accomplice of Susan’s, must pick a
series of locks for her, and each time she asks Susan to look away so she can
concentrate. What manages to present itself as an amusing character quirk still
nonetheless seems to be an excuse not to have to move anyone’s hands. Likewise
a lot of sequences black out when anything more complicated than a walk cycle
is occurring. For what is a very professional package in the art and writing
departments, it’s odd that the makers skimped on the visuals. However, it’s
understandable that for an indie project you can’t expect to have everything.
My one complaint regarding the sound is a disparity in
quality between characters’ voices. I’m surmising that many of the roles were
recorded and sent over the internet rather than in any sort of central studio,
and as a result any character who isn’t Susan can have a persistent hiss or
lower quality audio. Oftentimes there were minor discrepancies between the
spoken lines and the subtitles—not an issue for me but a pet peeve for others.
A notable exception is a turn by the demented David Firth as two of the
parasites. His sound equipment is top notch as expected, and I’m not ashamed to
admit that I shivered when his familiar mush-mouthed Queen’s rolled into my
headphones. The whole game is very reminiscent of Fat-Pie’s catalogue and I
feel that it would have been criminal not to have him turn at least a cameo
here. Extra points.
But enough of pretending to be a proper reviewer; let’s talk
about the horror.
When I think of horror gaming these days, especially
independent projects, it’s hard not to groan. Slender, Home, Anna, The (excuse
me) Fucking Path. If you’re not driving away any casual observer with art-house
masturbation and half-cocked nihilism, you’re frontloading the thing with
jump-scares, spooky faces, static stings, and misplaced ambiguity. The Cat Lady
revels in its influences, but more than that seems to actually understand what
about them worked and apply them to a modern package. The game reads like a
mash-up of Jacob’s Ladder and a Nine Inch Nails video. Jilted animation, sudden
frights, musical stings and spooky faces are all present here, but they come
together in a sincere and effective way.
However I must admit there was a point in the plot after
which the horror elements more or less dropped off and became background noise.
The chapter about the Pest Control man forms the meat of the gore and darkness
promised by the game’s advertising, though a chapter about a home invasion
plays on one of my personal fears and criss-crosses it with important
development of Susan’s character through playable flashbacks. The aesthetic of
the game doesn’t brighten after this point, but there is a marked increase of
dialogue and bit-characters played for laughs. The babysitter, the old man, the
Dog Lady; these (with the possible exception of the old man later on) are
one-dimensional bit parts who serve as obstacles in the puzzles, but offer
little in the way of character other than yuks. These are acceptable in small
doses, but so many and squeezed into such a small space of gameplay (or pages,
or scenes in a film) makes it really stand out, especially when the sardonic
banter between Susan and Mitzi is at its peak during this chapter.
The last real horror sequences in the game—concerning some
mysterious neighbors, and the final confrontation with the Queen of Maggots—are
very satisfying. The former for its imagery, subtlety and bleak ambiguity (MI…
SER… Y.), and the latter not so much for scare factor but for concluding Susan’s
character arc in a dramatically sound fashion. I’m not sure I gel with the
final reveal of the Queen of Maggots’ origins, preferring that she remain an
ambiguous gatekeeper figure (more on this in a minute).
There is a last-minute
addendum to the husband and wife scenario that I felt was squeezing the
premise, and it seems like those characters should have played a larger role in
the plot (even if it was just to mention six parasites at the start of the game
instead of five). For that, the mystery of the apartment across the hall feels
a little tacked on, but it’s got a very compelling sequence in it, so it gets a
pass.
The writer seems to have a good handle on subtle cues; the
repeat of “Thanks for nothing, goodbye” and various nods to old adventure games
(“Nice lamp”) are a treat. However I must admit that the plot offers little in
the way of twists. The first parasite is very loudly telegraphed, at a point in
the story where uncertainty and second-guessing should be at their highest. I
had expected one of the innocuous minor characters to turn out to be your first
target, but as it turns out all bad people in the Cat Lady’s world have a very
slimy way about them. Having all of the most likable characters turn out to be
serial killers would have been a gag-inducing ploy, however, so it’s hard to
come to a happy medium in that sense. If nothing else, at least the murdering
psychopaths are entertaining.
As a final gripe, and more of a personal one, the game’s
attitude towards professional services such as law enforcement and especially
mental health is decidedly pessimistic and a little juvenile. Susan’s remark
that it “feels like we’re in prison” in the mental health ward after her
suicide attempt had me groaning. As a person who has been through the rigors of
mental health assistance and had my life saved by care workers and counselors,
to have them stereotyped as a bunch of jackbooted thugs who are just trying to
make Susan’s life difficult and suppress their patients’ individuality (or some
shit) is laughable and wrong. Susan has a very real mental health crisis and
the hospital is right to detain her.
Likewise, it’s absurd and irresponsible
that there isn’t any hint of her following up on counseling or psychiatric
evaluation at any point during or after the events of the game, and the more
outlandish repercussions of her very real problems are written off as
supernatural influence in the final Queen of Maggots sequence. Screen 7 had a chance here to not only ground the
character but shed some light on the struggles—and triumphs-- of those with
mental illness, but instead chose the Hollywood horror route on this one. The
game’s ending reminded me of this issue, giving Susan an optimistic if not
perfect conclusion while seemingly ignoring large parts of the continuing
struggle a real person with her issues would face.
All said, however, for the occasional times I picked out a
stray tear in the wallpaper or felt ruffled with the execution, The Cat Lady compelled
me at every turn. I was up until four in the morning my first sitting and
completed it the next day. The end of the game left me wishing there was more,
a rare feeling these busy days. There was not too much or too little, I was
consistently enthralled with the atmosphere and unfolding plot, and god damn
it, I got some real, honest to god scares. Frights aren't easy to achieve in a point-and-click adventure, but The Cat Lady does it.
The Cat Lady is an absolute gem in
both the adventure and horror genres, and for an absurdly low price. You’d be
stupid not to give this studio your business.
