PAUL'S STATEMENT

It is said that in every barrel of apples there is at least one rotten one, and I have just found Infocom's. Although it retains the usual Infocom style of excellent text and full sentence input, the plot of this standard level detective story unfortunately does not.

In places it appears so weak and transparent as to resemble the invisible Man. To give you some idea how simple it is, I managed, to my surprise and disbelief, to completely solve the mystery in just under two hours.

The setting is Log Angeles on a cold Friday evening in 1938. You have been invited to the home of a Mr Linder, who claims that his life is being threatened by a Mr Ralph Stiles. You are to establish some basic facts behind Linder's claim.

You gather that some time ago Stiles was having an affair with Linder's wife Virginia who, it is claimed, committed suicide when Linder found out. Stiles is holding Linder responsible and is out for vengeance. Whilst you are sitting in Linder's office having this chat, a dark shadow appears at the window and blows Linder away, or so it appears.

So far the plot seems good, but it's when you actually start investigating the case that things just don't quite come together. The characters in the story number only four, not counting yourself and your sidekick, Sergeant Duffy. This means, of course, that it's not going to take art awful lot of effort to work out who is the guilty party.

The DUFFY HELP command causes Duffy to come straight out and tell you where the next clue is to be found, instead of giving a gentle hint. In my opinion this spoils the whole point of the game which surely must be to solve the mystery yourself.

What is the point of shelling out good money for a puzzling game, if you are given the answer to almost every puzzle by typing just two words?

STEVE'S STATEMENT

It had been a normal day in the office until I received a telegram from some crazy Joe who called himself Linder. He was a hot shot in the business world, plenty of cash and no worries, or so it seemed. But here in my hand was a message sayin' his life was being threatened b y a guy called Stiles.

I remembered a newspaper article I had read recently. Yeah! Mrs Linder had committed suicide and she'd been foolin' around with this Stiles guy because her husband had little time to give her any attention. I picked up my coat and headed off to Linder's house. I had this gut feelin' it was gonna be a long night.

When I arrived at Linder's house, it was the Chinese butler, Phong, who answered the door. I aimed a few sharp questions and was eventually ushered into Linder's office.

Linder sat in a well worn leather chair and beckoned me to take a seat. There was a large window to the rear of the office and a back-door exit. In one corner stood a beautiful grandfather clock. A cat was lyin' asleep on the floor.

Linder handed me a note: "Read this, it's clearly a death threat by that man Stiles." Sounded ominous - I checked it over for dabs, but no dice. Just then Linder's daughter Monica looked in to say somethirt' about going to the movies with her boyfriend. Good look in' broad, smart with it, as well.

Just as a screech of tyres told me Monica had left, there's this almighty bang and the window explodes, shards of glass flyin' everywhere. When the dust settles, Linder is lyin' dead on the floor.

While I was searching the house, in came Sergeant Duffy, my trusty aide, with a man in tow. "I caught this guy in the woods outside, calls himself Stiles. Says Mr Linder asked him to come over tonight." Duffy handcuffed Stiles to the sofa while I questioned him. This was going to be a piece of cake, I thought.

It wasn't - nothing seemed to fit. As my searching and questioning continued, it became clear that every member of the household had a motive to commit the murder. Somethin' told me that Stiles had been set up. My mind was reeling, the mystery was getting deeper.

But what do you do when the only person to see the crime committed is yourself and you have only 12 hours to find the killer? You see folks, I am The Witness.