Pentiment

In an odd bit of synchronicity, my reading of Menewood, set during the dawn of the Middle Ages, coincided with my playthrough of Pentiment, set during the dusk of the Middle Ages. Both are set in a world of towns and monasteries, show worlds where religious practice infuses every aspect of life, and where secular and sacred authorities exist in an occasionally uneasy symbiosis.

 

Pentiment is a very unusual game. It was created by Obsidian, the studio behind some of the best RPGs ever (KOTOR 2, NWN 2, Fallout: New Vegas, South Park: The Stick of Truth, and Pillars of Eternity). It plays much more like an adventure game than an RPG, although there are some vaguely RPG-ish elements. The most striking aspect of Pentiment is its visual presentation, which perfectly aligns the setting, story, theme and gameplay. The main character, Andreas Maler, illuminates manuscripts. The art style looks very flat, as in a medieval painting, before the Renaissance reintroduced perspective.

 

At any point during the game/story, you can pause and zoom out from the action, at which point you see the current scene as a panel in the book telling your story. This is supported by marginalia: unfamiliar terms may be defined, but more often there's some fanciful illustrations of imaginary beasts, like something out of the Voynich Manuscript.

 

My favorite aspect is probably the dialogue. There's no voice acting here, all the text appears on-screen in speech bubbles. Each character "speaks" with their own distinct hand. Peasants have relatively rough scripts, while townspeople have more refined cursive. The monks have particularly ornate and beautiful flowing calligraphy, and University-educated men likewise "speak" in strong, detailed lettering. A particularly nice, subtle touch is that the font color grows gradually lighter, until the speaker refills their "ink" and after a brief pause resumes "speaking" with strong black lines again. A major exception is the printer in the town, who "speaks" by laying down lead-set block type and then "printing" it.

 

Pentiment is the shortest Obsidian game I've played, but it's longer than I thought it would be, with a story that grows and takes some fun turns along the way.

 

 

MINI SPOILERS

Your player character, Andreas Maler, is a bit of an outsider who straddles different worlds. At the start of the game he's employed by Kiersau Abbey, but is not himself a monk: he's a journeyman artisan helping brothers in the Scriptorium with illuminating custom manuscripts. He rents a room from a peasant family, is friends with the villagers and a peer with the monks, traveling between those worlds. Born in Nuremberg, he doesn't have family connections in the Bavarian Alps; this outsider status gives lots of opportunities to ask questions.

 

I mentioned before that there are some light RPG-ish elements to the gameplay. During dialogue, you get a few chances to decide on the background and abilities of your Andreas. Your options include things like knowledge of nature, with medicine, with classical history, with theology, and so on. You could also decide whether your apprenticeship took place in Venice, Genoa, Milan or some other city. In all cases, picking a particular background or skill will unlock unique dialogue options.

 

There are also a handful of persuasion checks in the game, where you try to convince someone to do something. The outcome is usually based on previous things you have told them, but sometimes it can be influenced by your actions or skills. I'm honestly still not sure exactly how the mechanics of this work, but it seems like each check needs a certain number of "positive" points in order to pass (as opposed to a die roll or something).

 

Most of the gameplay consists of walking around and talking to people. There are a few puzzles to solve and a few fun minigames (none of which are repeated). It definitely seems like some things are missable, so you're well served by walking off the beaten path and talking to everyone, even if it doesn't show up as an objective. (On the other hand, this is all ultimately just a story, so missing something doesn't mean you'll "lose" the game, just that future events may play out differently.)

 

The core plot of the game revolves around a murder mystery. A prominent man is murdered and a monk who you know to be innocent is accused of the crime. As an outsider, you are trusted to conduct your own investigation. This primarily involves questioning potential suspects, but also searching for clues and looking for other evidence.

 

The overall setting and murder-mystery angle made me think of The Name of the Rose, the excellent novel from Umberto Eco. Like that novel, this game is driven by the murder, but the murder itself is also deeply connected with theological matters.

MEGA SPOILERS

There is very limited time in the game to do your investigations and make an accusation. I was mostly focused on the weird stuff in the monastery, particularly the occult objects, and didn't spend much time at all with the villager suspects; I don't think I ever even spoke with Lucky and didn't follow up on anything with Martin. During the trial I accused Ferenc. I had the most evidence to implicate him, and he'd been "difficult and evasive" during questioning. The other plausible character to accuse was Sister Matilda; I felt very bad for what had happened to her, though, and listened to the pleas of others to keep her name from the investigation. (I couldn't really picture her murdering the Baron, although I did toy with the idea that one of the other sisters might have done it on her behalf.)

During the trial I ultimately just shared the information on Ferenc and didn't even mention any of the other suspects, nor the notes I had found. My motivation was to avoid dragging any innocent people into the system. During the execution, I had very strong doubts about my choice!! It's an absolutely brutal, gut-wrenching scene, with Ferenc screaming and crying while surrounded by variously jeering and horrified onlookers. I felt filled with regret.

 

I was under the impression that Pentiment was a very short game, so I was kind of expecting it to end after the execution, perhaps to encourage a replay and learn more about the mystery. Instead, there's a seven-year time-skip. Andreas is now a master artisan who has returned to Nuremberg, gotten married, and become a respected and successful person. He has returned to Kiersau to pay his respects to Brother Piero, the monk was was falsely accused of the Baron's murder. In the intervening time Andreas has traveled and expanded his skills, so you essentially "level up" by selecting some new background options.

 

Before long, another murder occurs, this time of a local agitator. In the intervening years, Martin Luther's reform movement has turned into a schism, and there's great fear about cracks within the Catholic church. Father Gernot's previously harsh taxes have turned draconian, causing widespread misery among the townsfolk. As before, there are plenty of likely suspects who may have wanted to commit the murder. And there is even less time than before to investigate: instead of a few days, you have a single day to identify the murderer before the mob of furious peasants lynch the abbot.

 

There's even less convincing evidence this time around. In my game I focused on Brother Guy. You find damning proof that he has been embezzling money from the abbey. In my mind, this made him singularly responsible for the misery infecting Tassing: Gernot has been under the impression that Kiersau's finances are dire, which motivates him to impose his brutal taxes; if it wasn't for Guy's theft, perhaps the village and country wouldn't suffer so much. That said, I was even less sure about Guy than I was about Ferenc. While the motivation is clear, I never found any evidence placing him at the scene of the crime.

 

Things feel much further out of control in the second act than the first. The peasants are at the end of their rope, with a few voices pleading restraint but many more ready for drastic action. A few villagers hold especially important positions. The miller is by far the wealthiest member of the town and for decades has exploited his monopoly to impoverish the farmers. In contrast, the baker is a kindly Christian man who provides bread to those in need at a fair price. The baker is widely respected and, while supporting Tassing's grievances, consistently pleads for non-violence. During a tense confrontation, the miller accidentally shoots and kills the baker; this elevates the violence even more, spiraling into the burning of the miller and, eventually, the monastery itself. Andreas perishes in the flames while trying to save books from the scriptorium.

 

Now comes another time-jump, this time of 20 years, and this time a character jump as well: you now play as Magdalene Druckeryn, the printer's daughter, who was just a baby in the previous section and now is a young woman. Somewhat like Andreas you can select your skills and background; in my game she was persuasive and had a great head for finance and figures. One especially cool thing is that she gets a skill based on a previous decision made: what book Andreas bought her as a gift during the previous act. In my game, he got her a novel of chivalrous romance, and as a result she unlocked dialogue choices relating to tales of nobility.

 

The mechanics of gameplay with Magdalene are the same as with Andreas, but everything about this last act of the game feels very different from the first two. While you can choose between different dialogue responses, Magdalene tends to be funnier than Andreas, with a sharp, dry wit and more options for non-verbal responses. While time felt extremely compressed in the first and (especially) second acts, it's positively langrous in the third, with days, weeks or even months passing between scenes, unlike earlier where every hour meant the difference between life and death. And this time around you aren't trying to solve a murder. There's still Weird Things happening, and the backdrop of the previous murders loom over the town, but much less of a frantic race to pin a suspect.

 

Over the course of the first two acts, you gradually come to realize that, while some individual technically committed the murder, they were coaxed into doing so by some mysterious entity, whom Andreas dubs "The Thread-Puller". The Thread-Puller previously wrote notes in purple ink with a very ornate hand, secretly delivering them to people with a motive to kill the victim and providing details on when and where they'll have the opportunity to do so. Now, in the third act, the same types of notes start to appear again. Magdalene's father Claus is assaulted, surviving but badly injured, and Magdalene herself eventually receives notes as well.

 

The game ends with a bunch of surprising but well-earned revelations. (I know we're in Mega Spoilers here, but still, if you think you'll ever play this game you should skip ahead!). First is the discovery that Andreas Maler is still alive: he lost consciousness during the fire but did not die, and has been living a marginal existence on the outskirts of town for the last two decades as he deals with the grief of the death of his apprentice. Magdalene thinks that Andreas has been stalking and threatening her, but he's actually been watching over her and Claus, protecting them from harm.

 

While researching the history of Tassing for a mural she's drawing, Magdalene learns that Tassing was built over older Roman ruins. In particular, there used to be a temple to Mithras known as the Mithraeum which was apparently lost or destroyed in a floor. Andreas and Magdalene decide to go looking for it, as this seems to be where the Thread Puller moves between locations and retreats when threatened. Andreas has some kind of hallucination here, processing all his thoughts about his abandoned wife, dead son and dead apprentice. Andreas and Magdalene find the Mithraeum, and inside it Sister Amelie, the anchoress. She's been a presence throughout the game, seemingly walled up inside of the church, suffering from hallucinations/revelations that have occurred shortly before each death. As she "speaks", we realize that she has the extremely elegant hand that wrote the Thread Puller's notes.

 

But much like the murderers themselves, Amelie herself isn't really responsible: her hand wrote the notes and delivered them, but she didn't come up with the words or have any intention to cause harm. The thread puller behind the thread puller is none other than Father Thomas, the eminently likeable and mild-mannered local priest. Amusingly, I'd just been thinking about how much I liked Thomas: he's definitely orthodox in his religious beliefs, as one would expect, but always came across as kindly, thoughtful and compassionate. I think this is reinforced through his art style and presentation: he's almost always smiling, is slightly pudgy, and walks with an adorable rocking motion, all of which subtly signifies him as harmless.

 

Thomas lays out the reason behind the murders, which Andreas and Magdalene have partly put together. The village of Tassing is literally built on a lie. The original Roman settlement was abandoned, leaving behind statues, buildings and other artifacts. Later, when Christian refugees found and re-settled it, they identified those artifacts as being of Christian origin: statues of saints, a labyrinth of Mary. This drives Tassing's identity, Kiersau's mission, and even the local economy, as pilgrims journey to see those holy relics. But they aren't holy relics of the Church, they're actually pagan symbols of Rome.

 

This all started several years before the game when Kiersau's previous abbot found a book, Historia Tassia, that laid out the history. Thomas poisoned the abbot, making it seem like he died of natural causes. At the start of the game, the Baron brings another copy of the same book, and Thomas arranges for the Baron's murder to keep the book from view. (This doesn't go as planned, as Martin stole the book anyways; but the book remains hidden for many years without re-entering circulation.) Finally, Otto discovers the missing head of "Saint Moritz"; what the illiterate Otto doesn't realize (but Thomas does) is that the head is emblazoned with the words "MARS PATER", proving that the statue is actually of the Roman god. Finally, Claus and Magdalene's investigations into the town's history for the mural threaten another avenue of exposure; Thomas never makes an actual attempt on their lives, but tries to scare them off.

 

Everything gets wrapped up somewhat satisfyingly. Thomas brings down the ceiling of the submerged Mithraeum, but Andreas and Magdalene manage to rescue Amelie and escape. You can choose whether to share the truth with all the hurt it may cause or keep it concealed. The game ends with Magdalene leaving Tassing to start a new phase of her life in Prague, while Andreas reenters society as a welcome member of the Tassing community, in touch with his art once again.

 

Once everything clicks together at the end, I felt almost overwhelmed by just how perfect the story of Pentiment is. There are like four or five different layers of meaning that all resonate with and reinforce one another; they're all present throughout the whole game, but (at least for me) don't really come into focus until the conclusion. Going back to the title, "Pentiment" is the re-emergence of an element of a painting that was painted over by an artist; either age or abrasion can remove the newer image and reveal what was underneath it the whole time.

 

That's definitely what has happened in Tassing, where multiple civilizations have succeeded one another, each literally building on top of the previous one. Pre-Roman pagan culture was succeeded by Roman culture, then the early Christian refugees from Switzerland, who were gradually assimilated by nearby Bavarians. Farmers in the fields find bits and pieces of ancient Roman pottery and tools, long buried and gradually brought up to the surface again.

 

As with the physical objects, so with the legends and culture. From the first act of the game you've noted the strong parallels between the stories of Saint Moritz and Saint Satia, and older pagan stories that are still remembered in the town. It's now clear that those old stories had some names changed and some details updated, dressed up in Christian clothing but still the same. (Which was extra-cool for me to see, since that's basically what Hild is doing at the end of Menewood, so I was kind of witnessing both the start of that syncretic practice and its denouement a thousand years later.)

 

That same pattern of re-emergence repeatedly echoes on an individual, personal level as well. The evidence of the crimes are hidden, but come back again. People experience traumas in their childhood, suppress it for years, then see it erupt in adulthood. Actions you took in the early stages of the game are re-presented at the end: "choice and consequences", but with an incredibly strong tie-in to the game's overall theme.

 

Finally, I was really struck by all of the family trees shown at the very end of the game. In my playthrough, I was rather annoyed by Otz, so I didn't have Magdalene pursue any relationship with him. She remains independent at the end, which is kind of cool; but also comes to seem rather lonely as you see the flowering of other families. There's a strong sense of connection, growth, history, and support through familial ties. Also some sad things to see as well: it looks like the Roma and Artemis are burned at the stake, presumably for heresy, which may have been at least partly due to my encouragement of their unorthodox beliefs.

 

A few final random thoughts: overall I actually really enjoyed how religious faith was presented in this game. As seems appropriate for the setting and the era, religious references fill peoples' speech, with giving thanks to God, offering prayers, seeking and sharing encouragement and comfort. It isn't a separate activity or belief but something deeply ingrained in every aspect of life. It's portrayed with a good deal of variety and nuance as well, with cerebral debates at Kiersau Abbey alongside simple and homely religious practice in Tassing. I really enjoyed the presence of an Ethiopian Copt, which was accompanied by some fantastic (and, I believe, accurate) art. While Thomas is ultimately shown to be bad, I still really enjoyed seeing his scenes of confession; this put me in mind of Catholic novels I've read, like Willa Cather or Walter Miller, which respectfully portray the positive aspects of this practice: surrendering individual suffering before a greater power, accepting grace and the serenity that can come with absolution.

 

One very cool aspect of the long timespan of this game is getting to see the long-term growth of characters. One that particularly struck me was Martin. In the first act, I was strongly tempted to accuse him of the murder, mostly just because he's such an unpleasant and irresponsible person. The only reason I didn't was because I didn't have nearly as much evidence on him as I did for Ferenc. Then, in Act 2, you see how he's grown into such a supportive and helpful person, which made me very glad that I didn't murderize him! (Of course, this is complicated by the fact that Martin isn't actually Martin. I'm not sure if I'll replay this game, but if I do, I'll be very curious to see how that particular story changes.)

My favorite evolution is probably the Doctor. In the first act he is such an unlikeable, arrogant, condescending jerk, who clearly hates being in Tassing and hates everyone there. By the end of the game, you can still see traces of his pride and vanity, but he's also made it clear through his deeds that, under his attitude, he's come to deeply love this village and everyone in it, and feels good about devoting his life to their health.

And, visually, it's just fun to see little kids grow up into adults, and see the adults get a little grayer and a little pudgier. I can relate!

END SPOILERS

Pentiment has been one of the most interesting and enjoyable games I've played this year. It's great to see Obsidian stretching their creative muscles and doing something different; I'd love to see, say, BioWare doing a similar spin on their moribund Dragon Age franchise. The gameplay was pretty simple but very effective, and the story and setting tickled all sorts of interests for me: history, religion, art, politics, guilt, atonement, community, justice, economics, power, love, family. This felt like reading a book, in the best sense of that phrase, and I think it will linger with me in the same way a finely plotted and layered novel will for a long time to come.