An eerie adventure with a very specific style, Mansion was a fun puzzle to solve. It has an incredibly short runtime, but it works in the title's favor, allowing the atmosphere to stay fresh. Some of the puzzles (door puzzle) are a bit obtuse but the dream-space this game occupies is well worth the fumbling in the dark.
It goes a little like this: you and your sister are hanging out in the 3 FPS Meadow and see a mysterious butterfly. Your sister wants to take chase and see where it leads you, but you're a bit of a weenie and protest the idea, saying you'll get in trouble and besides, that's awfully close to where grandma said ghosts turn people into butterflies. Even more excited by the thought, she follows the butterfly anyway and lo and behold gets sucked into the titular Mansion. And so into the mansion you must go in hope of saving her humanity.
Inside the mansion you find its inhabitants—butterflies with unconvincing accents and the rooms that represent the interests they had as humans. In the game's best moment, a butterfly tells the player how in her days as a musician she longed to shed herself of her human body. Now, as a butterfly, she just wishes she were able to play the piano again, to be able to do the things that filled her soul. It brings to mind the scene in Wings of Desire where Peter Falk explains to the main character, an angel contemplating giving up his high standing for a permanent return to the corporeal world, his decision to do this very same thing. Being unable to interact with and therefore truly experience the world is an unfulfilling way to exist (to crudely paraphrase one of my favorite scenes in all of cinema). But here in Mansion of Hidden Souls, the words are spoken from someone for whom it's too late. She already made her decision, perhaps hastily in a time of pain, and now she's left in eternal regret of the things she can never experience again. It's a beautiful scene despite the voice actor doing maybe the most insane attempt at a Southern accent I've ever heard.
Unfortunately, that's the first and last time the game succeeds in doing anything emotionally resonant whatsoever. There are other butterflies we meet: an Australian butterfly specimen collector repulsed by the human form but who we never learn enough about to be interesting; an artist who we know is an artist on account of his room having a couple easels in it; a lady whose entire thing is that she's kind of mean and hangs out in bars; and finally a girl who, like, I don't know, is just kinda there.
It's this hasty characterization that makes Mansion of Hidden Souls a mere sliver of its potential. I want to poke around into the lives and minds of complex individuals and find out what made them get entangled in—if not outright seek out—the loss of their human form. What insecurities and sadnesses and ennuis and stubbornnesses brought them here? What brings so many people into wishing they were no longer human? Is there, maybe, a richness to Experiencing and Feeling we often overlook in our misery, like the butterfly who just wishes she could play music again?
Sadly, Mansion of Hidden Souls is largely uninterested in those questions: after all we have a sister to save and only one disc in which to do it.
Inside the mansion you find its inhabitants—butterflies with unconvincing accents and the rooms that represent the interests they had as humans. In the game's best moment, a butterfly tells the player how in her days as a musician she longed to shed herself of her human body. Now, as a butterfly, she just wishes she were able to play the piano again, to be able to do the things that filled her soul. It brings to mind the scene in Wings of Desire where Peter Falk explains to the main character, an angel contemplating giving up his high standing for a permanent return to the corporeal world, his decision to do this very same thing. Being unable to interact with and therefore truly experience the world is an unfulfilling way to exist (to crudely paraphrase one of my favorite scenes in all of cinema). But here in Mansion of Hidden Souls, the words are spoken from someone for whom it's too late. She already made her decision, perhaps hastily in a time of pain, and now she's left in eternal regret of the things she can never experience again. It's a beautiful scene despite the voice actor doing maybe the most insane attempt at a Southern accent I've ever heard.
Unfortunately, that's the first and last time the game succeeds in doing anything emotionally resonant whatsoever. There are other butterflies we meet: an Australian butterfly specimen collector repulsed by the human form but who we never learn enough about to be interesting; an artist who we know is an artist on account of his room having a couple easels in it; a lady whose entire thing is that she's kind of mean and hangs out in bars; and finally a girl who, like, I don't know, is just kinda there.
It's this hasty characterization that makes Mansion of Hidden Souls a mere sliver of its potential. I want to poke around into the lives and minds of complex individuals and find out what made them get entangled in—if not outright seek out—the loss of their human form. What insecurities and sadnesses and ennuis and stubbornnesses brought them here? What brings so many people into wishing they were no longer human? Is there, maybe, a richness to Experiencing and Feeling we often overlook in our misery, like the butterfly who just wishes she could play music again?
Sadly, Mansion of Hidden Souls is largely uninterested in those questions: after all we have a sister to save and only one disc in which to do it.
I don't have enough context on the gaming scene in 1993 to say anything definitively, but in 1993 I have to imagine this stood out (forgive my PC ignorance, I'm sure something got made there!).
In the period of time that people seemed to think FMV games were where games were headed (and were so so wrong), this feels surprisingly fresh. Everything that is enjoyable about old FMV games on the Mega CD is present here with less fuss, and it also represents the blueprint of System Sacom's future work on Torico, a genuinely wonderful game on Saturn. Worth revisiting, and worth playing blind, if you can put up with the dub. Immaculate vibes.
In the period of time that people seemed to think FMV games were where games were headed (and were so so wrong), this feels surprisingly fresh. Everything that is enjoyable about old FMV games on the Mega CD is present here with less fuss, and it also represents the blueprint of System Sacom's future work on Torico, a genuinely wonderful game on Saturn. Worth revisiting, and worth playing blind, if you can put up with the dub. Immaculate vibes.
There is a music room on the lower floor of the mansion where a butterfly flutters around portraits of composers and musical instruments. A harp and flute plays a hauntingly repetitive melody that looms throughout the room. The butterfly speaks to the protagonist. “I remember when I was human. I was on a small stage together with my friends and I played the piano. Now I cannot even touch the keys. I had felt there was no other choice. So at the time I thought it would be wonderful to be like a butterfly. To be carefree. I know now that I made the wrong decision.”
I could almost cry listening to the butterfly musician recount her story of rejecting her body. In Mansion of Hidden Souls, people come to the mansion and are forced to shed their mortal human bodies, for immortal butterfly forms trapped to static rooms of the people they once were. Her passions drove her so far that she immortalized them. Consequently, she lost the ability to pursue them.
While I am not I’m not trapped in an immortal static plane, I have struggled the past year with the consequences of a long-term case of CPTSD burnout. Day after day I fluctuate between being paralyzed in bed or doing everything I can to distract myself from the inability to function the ways I spent years doing. I flutter over the desired possibilities of art, creative practice, friendships, and self-realization. Then I spend days shuttering and writhing to work up the ability to pursue them, many times only ending up with overwhelming emotions of pain that erase any passions that were originally there. (Being able to write this long of a review in a cohesive manner has honestly taken me a massive amount of practicing emotional balancing and self-care).
Throughout this all, I’m constantly wishing I could be more, that I could do more. I spent 10 years of my life pursuing my passions with an unfiltered drive that left any sense of care or pace behind. In a way I feel like the musician butterfly, trapped in a body and place that is the consequence of my drive but lacking understanding of my own limitations.
I recognize that Mansion of Hidden Souls isn’t attempting to make nuanced statements about burnout or the limitations of the soul. In fact, the butterflies of the mansion could easily be interpreted as merely a hollow interpretation for the spirit as luminescent spectacle. The beginning of the game presents the butterflies as a silly little fairytale told by the two siblings grandmother. It’s a story that, alongside the voice acting, largely feels childish and whimsical. Alongside this, each character of the mansion feels like caricature. They each speak with poor fake international accents and, at first, feel like plain fairytale antagonists attempting to undermine the protagonist just for the sake of being evil.
However, as I ventured through the mansion and met more of its’ residents I was struck by how the caricatured emotions each of them held towards the protagonist were a reflection of their feelings towards their lives and residency in the mansion. The painter, the musician, the little girl, the game room attendant; they are not souls that unwillingly came to the mansion. Rather, their dialogue with the player implies that the mansion was the only path forward. Despite their transformation to static beings and loss of interaction with the material world, a chance to immortalize their beauty was impossible to pass up.
Each resident’s room materializes and spatializes their personas. The little girl’s room is filled with floral patterns, plush furniture, and pink curtains concealing the holistic view of the room from being seen. The artist’s room feels like it was built to be unfinished. The wood of the bannisters and walls make it seem as though you are in an attic. The canvases feel like there was some work in progress that was interrupted. Each room is filled a looming aura of the past. They not only feel trapped in a static image of what they once were, but they also feel forgotten and lost. As though no one has ever come to look for them. No one has ever appreciated the beauty that they sought to immortalize.
Despite this, there is still a beauty in these forgotten rooms in that if no one ever sees them you, the player, still did. The artists room of images are striking to look at and tell a story of an artist’s development from outdoor portraits to psychological abstracts. The musicians room of instruments and composers tells a story of someone who held deep compassion for their medium. The little girl’s room is exuberant with indulging in the fun of femininity, but clearly has parts of herself that she doesn’t want anyone to know about.
Looking at the rooms of the hidden mansion, I find some sort of comfort. In my recovery towards finding meaning in my life’s acts, it can be hard to find any hope and fall into a pit of nihilistic despair. Yet, these rooms, they would argue that despite all my struggles my beauty remains. That even if I find myself unable to engage with the activities, community, and practice which I hold such passion for, my history with them and my present actions still retain meaning.
I wonder if I became a butterfly what my own room would look like and what would be inside. Perhaps it would be filled with a collection of niche video games. Perhaps it would be filled with love letters of those whom I held in such high regard throughout my life. Perhaps it would celebrate the femininity I so luckily found in myself.
In the basement of the Mansion a librarian butterfly pins other butterflies in display cases, infatuated by their beauty.
The librarian is positioned to discomfort the player. Their position is that of enjoyment of the very thing that the player fears. Disembodiment and loss of humanity. They even speak in disgust of the player’s “human” body. But perhaps there is something beautiful that the librarian sees that we, in the position of the brother protagonist, cannot see. Perhaps in the midst of chasing after retaining what the brother has as a human, we are neglecting the beauty that remains as a butterfly.
I could almost cry listening to the butterfly musician recount her story of rejecting her body. In Mansion of Hidden Souls, people come to the mansion and are forced to shed their mortal human bodies, for immortal butterfly forms trapped to static rooms of the people they once were. Her passions drove her so far that she immortalized them. Consequently, she lost the ability to pursue them.
While I am not I’m not trapped in an immortal static plane, I have struggled the past year with the consequences of a long-term case of CPTSD burnout. Day after day I fluctuate between being paralyzed in bed or doing everything I can to distract myself from the inability to function the ways I spent years doing. I flutter over the desired possibilities of art, creative practice, friendships, and self-realization. Then I spend days shuttering and writhing to work up the ability to pursue them, many times only ending up with overwhelming emotions of pain that erase any passions that were originally there. (Being able to write this long of a review in a cohesive manner has honestly taken me a massive amount of practicing emotional balancing and self-care).
Throughout this all, I’m constantly wishing I could be more, that I could do more. I spent 10 years of my life pursuing my passions with an unfiltered drive that left any sense of care or pace behind. In a way I feel like the musician butterfly, trapped in a body and place that is the consequence of my drive but lacking understanding of my own limitations.
I recognize that Mansion of Hidden Souls isn’t attempting to make nuanced statements about burnout or the limitations of the soul. In fact, the butterflies of the mansion could easily be interpreted as merely a hollow interpretation for the spirit as luminescent spectacle. The beginning of the game presents the butterflies as a silly little fairytale told by the two siblings grandmother. It’s a story that, alongside the voice acting, largely feels childish and whimsical. Alongside this, each character of the mansion feels like caricature. They each speak with poor fake international accents and, at first, feel like plain fairytale antagonists attempting to undermine the protagonist just for the sake of being evil.
However, as I ventured through the mansion and met more of its’ residents I was struck by how the caricatured emotions each of them held towards the protagonist were a reflection of their feelings towards their lives and residency in the mansion. The painter, the musician, the little girl, the game room attendant; they are not souls that unwillingly came to the mansion. Rather, their dialogue with the player implies that the mansion was the only path forward. Despite their transformation to static beings and loss of interaction with the material world, a chance to immortalize their beauty was impossible to pass up.
Each resident’s room materializes and spatializes their personas. The little girl’s room is filled with floral patterns, plush furniture, and pink curtains concealing the holistic view of the room from being seen. The artist’s room feels like it was built to be unfinished. The wood of the bannisters and walls make it seem as though you are in an attic. The canvases feel like there was some work in progress that was interrupted. Each room is filled a looming aura of the past. They not only feel trapped in a static image of what they once were, but they also feel forgotten and lost. As though no one has ever come to look for them. No one has ever appreciated the beauty that they sought to immortalize.
Despite this, there is still a beauty in these forgotten rooms in that if no one ever sees them you, the player, still did. The artists room of images are striking to look at and tell a story of an artist’s development from outdoor portraits to psychological abstracts. The musicians room of instruments and composers tells a story of someone who held deep compassion for their medium. The little girl’s room is exuberant with indulging in the fun of femininity, but clearly has parts of herself that she doesn’t want anyone to know about.
Looking at the rooms of the hidden mansion, I find some sort of comfort. In my recovery towards finding meaning in my life’s acts, it can be hard to find any hope and fall into a pit of nihilistic despair. Yet, these rooms, they would argue that despite all my struggles my beauty remains. That even if I find myself unable to engage with the activities, community, and practice which I hold such passion for, my history with them and my present actions still retain meaning.
I wonder if I became a butterfly what my own room would look like and what would be inside. Perhaps it would be filled with a collection of niche video games. Perhaps it would be filled with love letters of those whom I held in such high regard throughout my life. Perhaps it would celebrate the femininity I so luckily found in myself.
In the basement of the Mansion a librarian butterfly pins other butterflies in display cases, infatuated by their beauty.
The librarian is positioned to discomfort the player. Their position is that of enjoyment of the very thing that the player fears. Disembodiment and loss of humanity. They even speak in disgust of the player’s “human” body. But perhaps there is something beautiful that the librarian sees that we, in the position of the brother protagonist, cannot see. Perhaps in the midst of chasing after retaining what the brother has as a human, we are neglecting the beauty that remains as a butterfly.
So cruel to start a fail timer when your last puzzle is a nonsensical Lost Woods number maze. Kotaro Uchikoshi would never.
Not really TOO much to say here, it's a pretty standard adventure game with a very simple gameplay structure given that every screen only has one interaction that can be done, and that interaction is always done by pressing up on the D-pad.
I do think the game is much more vibe-focused than gameplay-focused, though. The mansion is rendered in very early 90s CG, and most of the time the single interaction that you can do in each frame is simply zooming in and looking at a particular item in the frame. It's really like the developers spent a lot of time modelling a 3D house with the fancy new CG tools that existed, and really wanted to make a game that allowed players to look around and admire that work. If you take your time looking around and exploring everything, you will rather easily bump into all the necessary items for progression. The mansion isn't big either, so it's actually quite easy to take your time to see the sights, even if they move at a solid 4 FPS.
The game has this really interesting concept about this mansion existing as a place for people to shed their human bodies to instead become these spiritualized butterflies, and each room in the mansion is home to a different character that has their own sorts of reasons to become a butterfly. It's honestly pretty neat stuff but the game doesn't really dive deeply into the concept very much, leaving the NPCs to not really have very much actual bearing on the narrative. I could certainly imagine the concept alone definitely sparking the imagination of like someone renting the game back in the day, but the game does feel a little narratively half-baked in a sense. Doesn't help that the voice deliveries were definitely 90's video game acting, and for some reason the game just loves to have the voices way too quiet and absolutely drenched in reverb to the point where it's hard to make out what people are actually saying half the time. I wonder how much better the game would have been had I played the original Japanese release tbh, might have to give it a go one of these days.
It's neat, certainly a unique entry in the Sega CD library for sure. The game has a super short length of only like 2 hours so if you are even interested enough to be looking at this review then like yea bro go give it a play.
also lmao despite being an adventure game the mega mouse support on this is basically just binding d-pad inputs to mouse movement, which causes way more misinputs than not, it was really designed to be played with a controller i have no idea why they programmed in mouse support for this
I do think the game is much more vibe-focused than gameplay-focused, though. The mansion is rendered in very early 90s CG, and most of the time the single interaction that you can do in each frame is simply zooming in and looking at a particular item in the frame. It's really like the developers spent a lot of time modelling a 3D house with the fancy new CG tools that existed, and really wanted to make a game that allowed players to look around and admire that work. If you take your time looking around and exploring everything, you will rather easily bump into all the necessary items for progression. The mansion isn't big either, so it's actually quite easy to take your time to see the sights, even if they move at a solid 4 FPS.
The game has this really interesting concept about this mansion existing as a place for people to shed their human bodies to instead become these spiritualized butterflies, and each room in the mansion is home to a different character that has their own sorts of reasons to become a butterfly. It's honestly pretty neat stuff but the game doesn't really dive deeply into the concept very much, leaving the NPCs to not really have very much actual bearing on the narrative. I could certainly imagine the concept alone definitely sparking the imagination of like someone renting the game back in the day, but the game does feel a little narratively half-baked in a sense. Doesn't help that the voice deliveries were definitely 90's video game acting, and for some reason the game just loves to have the voices way too quiet and absolutely drenched in reverb to the point where it's hard to make out what people are actually saying half the time. I wonder how much better the game would have been had I played the original Japanese release tbh, might have to give it a go one of these days.
It's neat, certainly a unique entry in the Sega CD library for sure. The game has a super short length of only like 2 hours so if you are even interested enough to be looking at this review then like yea bro go give it a play.
also lmao despite being an adventure game the mega mouse support on this is basically just binding d-pad inputs to mouse movement, which causes way more misinputs than not, it was really designed to be played with a controller i have no idea why they programmed in mouse support for this
Incredible vibes. The puzzles are barely puzzles, just excuses to wander around the mansion, but the space is interesting and well-defined enough that I didn't want to be thinking about puzzles instead of wandering. It occasionally falls apart, especially in the late game, when you do need to think about the puzzles but what you're expected to do is completely out of nowhere. But when it works, it works.
The vibes here are incredible but it doesn't really work as an adventure game beyond that. The "just show me the next puzzle" room feels like a game that lacks confidence in its puzzles, and I can't say I really blame it. There's some real adventure game nonsense going on in here and my goodness is the audio mixing bad.
Definitely go spin this one up for a few minutes, though. It's too interesting a view into a very brief period of game history to miss.
Definitely go spin this one up for a few minutes, though. It's too interesting a view into a very brief period of game history to miss.
This game is really cool!! I think the way this game handles tone works really well! There are a couple moments where it's like.... how was the player supposed to figure this out actually. And those bits take away from the game as a whole, because part of the fun of a mystery is enjoying the challenge of a puzzle and getting a sense of accomplishment from working through them yourself, and when they feel less like puzzles and more like either knowing the answer or random trial and error until something works you no longer achieve that reaction so much as a sense of frustration. Setting a death timer on what seems like a largely trial and error puzzle feels..... not particularly fair. I guess that doesn't matter and it makes the experience more real? Who's to say if you were really in this situation that you could expect to survive, and why should the expectation of a video game be that you overcome all, or that you are supposed to be set up to win? But in terms of... playing a game, where that often is an expectation of the medium, it is certainly frustrating
You know have you ever played a game that makes you regret a plan you had? When they announced the Sega Mega Drive 2 Mini, I wanted to play and review every game. Playing this though has made me realize forcing myself to play games for the sake of a list is not fun to do. Now don't take this as a "This game is trash" kind of review. This is more of a "This game was really not for me" kind of review. I'm sure some really like this kind of stuff, maybe it's even better on Saturn. For me though I just really couldn't enjoy it. So lesson learned from me, don't ever play games for the sake of saying you did, you'll regret it...