Discworld

Iain Mew
8 min readOct 23, 2019
Discworld (Perfect 10/Psygnosis, PC, 1995)

The worlds of computer games and fantasy/sci-fi books have long been close together. Early British gaming milestone Elite was one of many, many games to have taken some inspiration from Douglas Adams’s sharp and funny science fiction parody The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. In the other direction, let’s look at Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams fan and the UK’s best-selling author of the 1990s thanks to his Discworld series roughly doing for fantasy what Hitchhiker’s did for sci-fi, but many times more prolifically. Pratchett drew on his lasting interest in computer games in his writing. Small Gods (1992) is a spin on the central mechanic of Populous that gods get more powers the more believers they have, with the twist of considering what really counts as belief. Racist mis-step Interesting Times (1994) ends with its main character controlling a Terracotta Army stand-in via what is obviously the interface from Lemmings. Outside of his Discworld series, Pratchett wrote a whole book about a computer game, Only You Can Save Mankind (1992) in which the main characters are drawn into a game that’s somewhere between Space Invaders and Elite. He takes the side of the aliens.

Meanwhile, alongside Adams and Pratchett’s witty, knowing parodies of genre fiction, in the world of gaming LucasArts were making a big success of point’n’click graphic adventures which served as witty, knowing parodies of genre fiction. There’s no coincidence there: Douglas Adams worked together with LucasFilm Games (as was) on their first adventure game, Labyrinth, a logical extension to Adams’s own interest in computers and his role writing the text adventure version of Hitchhiker’s. Across the Atlantic from LucasArts, the biggest British success in the world of graphic adventures in the early ’90s was Simon the Sorcerer by AdventureSoft, who had originally wanted to make a Discworld game but couldn’t get the rights. Instead they made something in much the same spirit. Title character Simon is essentially an amalgam of Pratchett’s early Discworld protagonist (and useless wannabe wizard) Rincewind and LucasArts’ Monkey Island protagonist (and useless wannabe pirate) Guybrush Threepwood.

By 1995, a Discworld graphic adventure wasn’t just a good idea, but practically an inevitability. Beyond the intertwined background, the format is perfectly suited. The slow, detail-focused gameplay is a perfect delivery vehicle for comedy. There’s a reason why Rincewind and Guybrush Threepwood, self-aware and sarcastic commentators on the world around them, were so compatible, and indeed you play as Rincewind in the Discworld game. The meta tendencies of the genre line up with one of the key repeated themes of Discworld, the idea defined on occasion as ‘narrativium’: narrative is one of the key building blocks of the world and able to exact a powerful force upon events. Things happen because they are expected to happen, and because they make for the best story. At one point Discworld the game plays on one of Pratchett’s best straightforward manifestations of this — “one-in-a-million chances happen nine times out of ten” — getting the player to work out the exact series of accessories that will add up to the hero’s chances being 1,000,000–1.

Lots of games make you work out what their developers want you do as a solution, but few tie that puzzle-solving as directly in to the narrative as graphic (and text) adventures. The actions in question tend more to the detailed mechanics than the grand sweep, but at best progress is a kind of collaborative narrative process between creator and player, tuned to the same wavelength. You progress the story by working out what the story is going to be. Or what the story should be. The player enacts the force of narrativium.

And so in Discworld the game, Rincewind is not just aware, as in the books, that he is the unwilling hero in a fantasy story, and what the rules of that story are. He is aware that he is the hero of a fantasy point’n’click adventure. His ambulant suitcase companion of infinite and terrifying capacity, the Luggage, may not have been written as a parody of game inventories, but it certainly reads like one.

After watching the game’s intro the player knows that it’s a story about a dragon on the rampage in the city of Ankh-Morpork, but Rincewind doesn’t yet. Look out the window at the distant figure of the dragon, labelled as ‘shape’ and he comments that it’s obviously a plot element, or it would have a better label. In that kind of moment the game extends in a worthwhile way from both Discworld and point’n’click games. In others, its puzzles are far too obtuse to give the feeling of figuring out the story, going a long way beyond the standard of the genre in difficulty. That makes for a lot of time going around trying out everything possible, which means that the world and its characters being enjoyable to spend time with is even more important.

Rincewind’s turn as sarky, put-upon man, dealing with a world around him which is obviously mad, is enhanced by being voiced by Eric Idle. I won’t go into the further links between Monty Python and Douglas Adams, because my history bit at the start was already long enough and because Elizabeth Sandifer already did it excellently, but there is a positive kind of obviousness to that casting too. Likewise, given the comedy fantasy-historic setting of Ankh-Morpork, the presence in the cast of Tony Robinson (throw Blackadder into that web of British humour fiction somewhere too). As a fan of the Discworld books, one of the best parts of the game is hearing familiar characters given voice. Tony Robinson’s take on amoral street peddler Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, unflappable in the face of having his cons pointed out, played like Baldrick if his obliviousness was a cunning front, is particularly delightful. As a representation of the daft, inventive, funny world of Discworld, the game is a happy success. It fills its inevitable role very well.

However, as a series, Discworld isn’t just daft and inventive and funny. Well it pretty much was to begin with, and remained that way in much popular perception for a long while afterwards. There was a reason Pratchett kept bringing Rincewind back for lazy romps in new places. Discworld would not be as well-loved as it remains if that was all it was, though.

The plot of Discworld the game draws heavily on the eighth novel in the series, Guards! Guards! (1989), which was a distinct turning point in the tone and range of the series and its satire. In it, a dragon is set loose in the city and is eventually stopped with help from the efforts of the under-funded, under-respected, under-the-influence guards of the City Watch, who gain some self-respect in the process. The book turns away from the typical special one born-into-the-role hero of the previous books, giving starring roles to characters in positions that would previously have made them cannon fodder or comic relief alone. The importance of the life and story of every single person is a strong theme throughout the series. Keeping the Watch as leads would have made for a different and less obvious game, but replacing them with Rincewind — a wizard from the parody of privileged academia that is Unseen University — loses that strand of the message.

The other thing that Guards! Guards! brings through strongly is anger at how society is run, and to whose benefit. In its story a manipulative palace insider uses the petty grievances of a bunch of working men to incite them to summon a dragon. He plans to stage a vanquishing and install a puppet ruler, but loses control and instead himself ends up as puppet to the monster he conjured. Pratchett returns repeatedly to the fickle will of the crowd, influenced via the forces of narrative. When the dragon winds up in charge of the city, the most cutting satire is how easily treasure-hoarding and virgin-sacrificing are accepted as the new normal. The people in power in a position to do something quickly fall to collective self-interest, content as long as they believe they’re not supporting the burning of their faces. That kind of seething argument for greater justice became more prominent as the Discworld books went on.

This whole theme, though, gets minimised by the game’s changes to the plot and its wider insistence on prioritising knockabout comedy. No chance is missed for cartoon logic, and even where aspects of the plot like the dragon’s desire for revenge on its summoners are kept, they’re played for laughs There is parody but nothing like the sharp satire of the source material, and it puts humour above anything, including sometimes fidelity to its characters. Across the series Pratchett has a running joke of the university’s orangutan librarian reacting violently to being called a monkey, but the many times the game has slapstick scenes of Rincewind doing that (or similar to other characters) and being bashed on the head doesn’t ring true. He’s the Librarian’s assistant from pretty early on in the series and regardless, if nothing else, his defining cowardice would make him more cautious than that. The game’s humour goes broad again and again. It may well include more jokes about men wearing dresses than it does women, in dresses or otherwise. That doesn’t come out of nowhere — Pratchett never quite got past the temptation to bite on easy jokes even if they sat uneasily with his moral messages — but the game feels closer to his worst early instincts.

To get completely anachronistic, I like to imagine a Discworld point’n’click based instead on much later books in the series. Tiffany Aching, analytical teenager training to be a witch (a position portrayed as being social worker and midwife more than it is magician) would fulfil a need for a level of unawareness and observation as player stand-in really well, and would allow for a game with a very different tone. That could be more than a cartoon romp in a familiar funny world. As it is, Discworld the game is a well-realised vision of Discworld, but it’s a vision of Discworld which was already old hat by the time of its inevitable creation.

Gallup Compact Disc chart, Computer Trade Weekly 3 April 1995 (chart for week to 25 March 1995)

This post is part of a project called AAA in which I play and write about every game I can find to have been #1 in the UK sales charts. This is post #119. For previous posts, see the complete archive.

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