Like the other FMV interactive movies produced by Sierra, Phantasmagoria uses the enhanced version of Sierra Creative Interpreter, known as SCI2, with only one notable difference: like King’s Quest VII before it, the game ditches the icon-driven interface in favor of a context-sensitive cursor which automatically selects the most appropriate action for all eligible hotspots. This streamlined interface is often held up as proof of how little challenge FMV games are capable of presenting the player, and while for many interactive movies this simply isn’t true, Phantasmagoria does indeed pose little to no difficulty for the experienced adventurer or newcomer alike. On those rare occasions where you might need help, the adventure features an in-game hint system which clearly doesn’t understand the meaning of hint: clicking on the icon immediately presents the player with an evident solution instead of a subtle clue.

The ease of the game isn’t due to its interface issues, however, but rather its uninspired puzzle design. Puzzles are few and far between, and they never require creative thinking from the player. Unfortunately, when they do pop up, they often feel contrived and trivial: for example, early in the game, Adrienne discovers a loose brick blocking a passage, and she must unrealistically use a particular object to open up a hole big enough for her to fit through, even if she has a perfectly good hammer right at hand. Another good example is the classic “paper under the door to retrieve key” puzzle: after a good deal of frustration, I found out that there is only one particular item capable of pushing the key out of the lock; one that’s very well hidden and retrievable only after a certain moment in the game. This kind of linearity serves no other purpose than lengthening the game without adding any real value to it. When dealing with interactive movies, I’m all for well-integrated obstacles that don’t stifle the pacing of the story. Still, I want to be challenged and I want to think about the situations. Certainly I don’t want pointless puzzles solvable with a mere click or two whose sole purpose is to atone for the lack of any other gameplay.

Okay, so the story is quite banal, the writing often stereotypical, the gameplay flawed, and I’ve yet to mention some of the most over-the-top, tacky acting of all time. The lines themselves are far from brilliant, but they’re made substantially worse when spoken with such an exaggerated emphasis that they become utterly laughable. With the exceptions of Robert Miano, who gave a real charm to his flamboyant Zoltan, and Golden Globe winner Stella Stevens, who is a perfect chatty antiquariat with a penchant for saucy gossip, the majority of the cast – from a sleazy real state agent awfully portrayed by Geof Prysirr, to a dingy tramp with fortune-teller ambitions, acted by the always dreadful V. Joy Lee (who also had a quick cameo in Phantasmagoria II) – delivers an unbelievable, even ludicrous performance. Victoria Morsell (Adrienne) and David Homb (Don), while not as bad, are nevertheless quite uninspired themselves.

By now you must be thinking: is this game any good? In some ways, yes it is. First of all, the last two acts are thoroughly captivating, making up for the relative dullness of the early ones. The seventh act in particular not only manages to be touching but also concludes the game with one of the most powerful, breathtaking finales I’ve ever experienced: the gameplay suddenly becomes complex, with a string of difficult, challenging timed sequences where the pacing is frantic, the atmosphere thick and really frightening. The horror that in previous chapters felt somehow insincere, in the last portion of the game suddenly becomes vivid and real, and I almost had to turn on the light and quit for a while to catch my breath.

This feeling is enhanced by the musical score, orchestrated by Sierra veterans Mark Seibert and Jay Usher, which is eerie and spooky through the whole game but in the end becomes, with its unnerving choir and dark, rumbling percussions, so tense and vibrant that I felt the urge to turn it down to ease my nerves. Furthermore, the graphic design may have aged badly, but back in 1995 when the game was first released, its distorted geometries and sparkling colors added a strange, unsettling mood to the gaming experience, drawing the player into what feels like a baroque, grotesque nightmare. Even today, some of the landscapes and especially the lusciously rendered upper rooms of the mansion, with their violent red, unsettling shadows and arcane machinery, stand out like thrilling sets for a horror story.

On a personal level, I like Phantasmagoria a lot, even if the story is stereotypical and the gameplay simplified to the point of being almost superfluous. I like it not only because of its historical importance, but also because – clichéd or not – it was successful in scaring me, like a good horror movie should always do. It may not be original or profound, but it was ahead of its time both in production values and the courage with which it tried to approach mature, sensitive themes. Today, especially when compared with the better interactive movies that followed it, Phantasmagoria is clearly a flawed gaming experience, but with the right expectations of what to expect, it remains worth playing and being enjoyed for what it is: the first of its kind, and an effective classic horror story in the end.