In case you’ve been (enviably) living under a rock these past few months, A.I. is something of a hot-button issue at the moment.

The pace of its development, alongside its ever-evolving suite of capabilities, should be cause for concern no matter who you are. Indeed, everyone from white-collar office drones to factory workers and salespeople could soon find that their livelihoods are at risk because of this emerging technology.

It’s an anxiety that’s equally troubling for those stuck in dead-end jobs and the biggest of big shots over in Hollywood (with it continuing to be a major sticking point in the ongoing SAG-AFTRA strikes). As a writer, I’m not even going to pretend that I don’t have a dog in this fight, given that my trade feels like it is under very real threat of obsolescence right now, thanks to stuff like ChatGPT.

Of course, then there are all of the other legitimate worries associated with the rise of Artificial Intelligence, beyond just its potential to replace us organic meat bags. Things like: how can we trust the veracity of any images that we see online; what’s to be done about the inevitable spread of misinformation; what are the implications for creative types and, most importantly, how do we prevent Skynet from triggering Judgement Day?

If you are (justifiably) wondering why I’ve dedicated such a meaty chunk of this horror game review to technophobic scaremongering — like some crazed doomsday prophet you’d give a wide berth on the street — rest assured that it is actually relevant here. It’s not like I’ve gone rogue and hijacked a piece about Super Mario Bros. Wonder or whatever, just to get on my alarmist soapbox.

On the contrary, these timely themes are extremely pertinent when it comes to talking about [I] doesn’t exist, as it’s a title that’s preoccupied with questions of existentialism, how we derive purpose from our lives, the innate humanity involved in producing works of art, and the way that we have come to rely on digital automation as a kind of crutch. Plus, it makes clever use of Natural Language Processing (NLP) behind the scenes, in order to hammer these salient points home.

Updating the Text Adventure Genre For the 21st Century

With that said, we should probably start by addressing that zeitgeisty elephant in the room. Artificial Intelligence has been used to automate part of [I] doesn’t exist, but it’s not generating any original content per se. And, seeing as this is a game that’s all about what it means to be alive, it would be pretty hypocritical if the developers were to outsource their writing to a bloody chatbot.

Fortunately, that’s not the case here whatsoever. Instead, 100% of what you read in this text-based adventure has been lovingly crafted by living, breathing Homo Sapiens. The only thing that the NLP is used for is deciphering your responses to prompts. In that sense, it’s not acting as a substitute for human creativity, so much as it is a quasi-interpreter between the player and the game.

You see, [I] doesn’t exist is a throwback to the days of Zork or The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (1984). As in those old-school text adventures, you’ll have to solve a number of complicated puzzles by manually typing out commands for your avatar to follow and then hoping that it can intuit what you meant. In the most straightforward of cases, this could mean inputting something along the lines of: “Take Key” or “Walk Right.”

Of course, if you have ever played one of these headscratchers before, then you’ll know that it is rarely that simple. The conundrums in text adventure are often deviously intricate (to the point where they verge on downright cruel) and the exact combination of words that you’re expected to type can be awkwardly prescriptive. For instance, should you ever use lexicon that isn’t recognised by the database, or if a verb in your sentence construction is out of place, then they usually don’t play ball.

Determined to remove any such pedantry from the experience, the two-person development team over at LUAL Games has decided to modernise the genre with [I] doesn’t exist. And the way they have done this is by introducing a feature that is nothing short of revelatory.

The use of Natural Language Processing here means that you now have the freedom to articulate commands in whatever manner you see fit and, 9 times out of 10, they will work perfectly. The discerning technology is capable of parsing synonyms, typos, colloquialisms, grammatical errors and even the occasional turn-of-phrase.

For example, the game won’t get freaked out over the philosophical difference between “throw bucket of water” and “pour bucket of water.” Nor will it get picky if you ask it to “inspect” a given item, rather than using the preferred term of: “look at.” You can even have proper conversations with some of the NPCS and, while they wouldn’t pass the Turning Test by any stretch, it’s impressive just how flowing, dynamic, and human these exchanges can feel.

There are inevitably some limitations to the system and if you purposefully try to catch it out then it will fumble. But as long as you keep your commands relatively brief — while also making sure to include a noun and a verb — then you’ll find that it’s capable of following instructions.

As a result, you are able to concentrate more on cracking the solutions to riddles, instead of getting hung up on the precise syntax that you need to use in order to be understood by a computer.

A Mystery Door, A Jukebox and A Talking Mushroom

Speaking of which, the puzzles here are pretty enjoyable at first (we shall return to that important caveat in a moment). Imagine an elaborate, fantasy-themed escape room and you’re in the right ballpark.

Your avatar — a pixelated sprite — awakens in a dark cave whereupon they discover an expository note that sets the scene for the rest of your trial. It explains that there is a door to the east, which is shut tight, and that unlocking it will require you to fetch the corresponding key from a nearby safe.

Figuring out how to open said container in the first place, however, will entail wandering out into the woods and getting creative. Among other things, you’ll need to piece together how a jukebox, a vending machine, a hammock, a bucket suspended on a rope, an outdoor shower, and a cat statue all fit into the equation.

If that sounds too perplexing, don’t be intimidated. The whole thing is deceptively logical, with most of the obstacles requiring basic problem-solving skills or deductive reasoning. There’s no “guess what the developer was thinking” bullshit, like that infamous goat puzzle in Broken Sword.

Not to mention, there’s only a finite number of items to interact with anyway, and they in turn only have a finite number of uses. In the event that you do get stumped, you can also converse with a helpful fungus, who will kindly give you pointers if you tell them which particular clue you’re having trouble with.

Overall, it’s a fun, breezy challenge that takes about an hour to beat. And then you retrieve the key from that safe and open the mystery door, at which point the rug is pulled out from under you in a very meta way.

And Now For Something Completely Different

I can’t really say much more without venturing into blatant spoiler territory but, suffice it to say, [I] doesn’t exist is not what it initially appears.

After the opening, there’s a distinct tonal shift — with proceedings taking a much darker, creepier turn — themes of mental health start to bubble up to the surface, and the very genre of the title flips on a dime. Again, I’m reluctant to expand any further upon this, as the intriguing surprises that LUAL have in store for you deserve to be experienced first-hand.

Honestly, I was conflicted about whether I should even reference the fact that there is more than meets the eye here, until I saw the game’s own Steam Store page (as well as its cover art) alluding to it. I also think it’s important to know that there’s something else afoot so that you can appropriately manage your expectations. Because if you go into this hoping for a fully-fledged puzzle outing then you’re likely to come away disappointed.

Don’t get me wrong, the twist leads to some fascinating concepts and really puts the Natural Language Processing through its paces, but you’re not going to be solving constant brainteasers once the intro is behind you. Well, not until you get around to your second, third or maybe fourth playthrough anyway.

Which brings us to the one glaring blemish on [I] doesn’t exist. Unless you are incredibly savvy and realise what the game’s asking of you right from the start, getting to the bottom of this mystery is going to take a few attempts. After all, there are multiple endings and story outcomes to see, and the criteria for unlocking the most satisfying of them isn’t immediately apparent.

That wouldn’t be such a problem, were it not for the fact that every time you start over, you’re forced to repeat that long-winded escape room section all over again, and the answers don’t ever change. Not even a little.

As a result, what started off as a novel and enthralling process of elimination quickly descends into a laborious Groundhog Day-esque chore. Especially if, like me, you run up against various technical hiccups including: hard-crashes; non-responsive inputs; interminable loading screens; and errors with the Python coding.

As I was trying to perform my due diligence and thoroughly explore all of the different aspects of the title for this review, it genuinely felt like I was having to fight against it sometimes. And it’s a pity that frustration set in because [I] doesn’t exist truly has a lot going for it.

Indeed, even with those faults, I’d still recommend it if you’re in the market for something a bit different and that actually has fresh ideas under the hood. Of course, it’s also just heartening to see developers using A.I. in a way that enhances the core experience for players, instead of diluting it. For that alone, LUAL ought to be commended.

Published by DreadXP, [I] doesn’t exist is coming soon to Steam for Windows PC, Mac and Linux.

Review code provided by the publisher.