Solitaire: Rectify

In life, you were one of society’s reprobates or worse. You were evil, villainous, even. You committed murder. You committed acts of fraud. You stole. You dealt drugs. Your actions hurt people. In life you did one, more, or even all of them. You were a vile bastard and did not care. You got rich. You got high. It did not matter. In death, it is another matter. Ultimately, deep down, you knew what you were doing was wrong. Immoral. Evil. In death, the consequences are worse than might even have imagined, that is, if you thought about it. What matters now is that you are dead and you are in pain, lying bound under a blood red, burning sky, your lips sewn up. You hear many words, but understand only one, “Rectify.” Spoken by an oily, black thing that can only be a demon, it points towards an opening in the rocks of a giant black skeleton, an archway that could be a mouth, but is more like a drain or sewer… As you drag your desiccated body over jagged rocks that tear at your skin, you enter and work your deeper and deeper, almost as if lowering yourself down a throat, and ultimately, into the bowels… of Hell. Perhaps as the begins somewhere else anew, you will have the chance to ask yourself, “What did I do wrong?” and in answering that question, find a way to answer another, “What can I do to make amends?” In other words, is there a way for you to ‘Rectify’?

Rectify is published by Hansor Publishing, best known for The Gaia Complex – A Game of Flesh and Wires. Rectify though, is a journalling game in which the Player Character is a faced with the five trials of hell, undergoing excruciating punishments for past sins, and constantly being asked to atone for the transgressions. It differs from other journalling games in a number of ways. It is systemless. In fact, it uses no mechanics whatsoever. This is both in terms of character creation and action resolution. Most journalling games provide a means of creating a character, but in Rectify, a player really only needs to know what his character’s crimes were and to able to understand why he committed them. Similarly, most roleplaying games employ a range of prompts and ideas, randomly selected through either roll of the dice or drawing of a card. Rectify does neither. Instead, it asks only a handful of questions from start to finish, the most at the end of each trial—of which there are five—The Mouth, The Throat, The Gut, The River of Blood, and The Pit. Each is a well-done vignette that asks the player to contemplate the actions of the character, preferably in a cool dark place. This though is not whole of the Reflection which Rectify asks the player to undertake, and it is here that Rectify is the most radical.

Rectify is designed as an immersive solo roleplaying game. In Rectify, the immersion comes about because the player and the character are inexplicably connected. Not because the second is the creation of the first, though that is undeniably true, but because at each of the five stages of the character’s journey to atonement, the act, or Pledge, that the player must undertake for the character to ‘rectify’, is a physical one. This comes after a moment—or even longer—of ‘Reflection’, but it is an act that as written, is carried out in the real world rather than the fantasy of Rectify. The player is recording his experiences both at the start of a period of reflection and after, and this includes the experience of carrying out the Pledge and the experience of its consequences. It those consequences that radically shift Rectify away from a fantasy, because the consequences can be life changing.

For example, the first scene takes place in The Mouth, where the theme is one of accepting your fate and being silenced. In the period of Reflection, the player calms his mind, sets aside his fear, embracing what Hell is tormenting him with, and then swallowing his (character’s) guilt, ignites his senses. This is combined with the Pledge, of which there are three options. One is eat a handful of chilli peppers, including seeds and without drinking any water; another is to fill your mouth with as many ice cubes as possible, and keeping the mouth shut until they have completely melted; and third, have the tongue pierced (by a professional). Pledges at the end of later scenes include the player confessing to something that he has kept hidden for a long time; have sex with someone (consensually) or masturbate, but always be in the moment; go and get some dental work that you have been putting off; face your biggest fear head on; and so on. Some these can have cathartic, even beneficial effects, such as such as volunteering for a helpline or support group, like the Samaritans or a food bank, or watch a film that makes you cry and enables you to express your emotions, but most are not. The problem is that although these are often thematic, such as numbing the throat through chillis or ice cubes after the character has swallowed his guilt, the physicality of these actions is going to be uncomfortable at the very least, painful at the very most.

Effectively, the immersion at the heart of Rectify is too immersive. It negates the power of the imagination and it punishes the player for his imagination. Of course, the player has not committed murder or defrauded anyone or stolen anything, and so is not being punished with a fine or a prison sentence by the authorities. He is, however, being punished for thinking about having done those things. Rectify does carry a warning about it being for mature players. That though, may not be enough.

Physically, Rectify is well presented. Done in stark black and white throughout, with pages borders that seem to squirm. The look of the journalling game is constrictive and oppressive, though the art is decent.

Rectify feels more like therapy then roleplaying game, more like a punishment than a pleasure. It blurs the line between reality and fantasy, possibly dangerously so. There is scope to explore the atonement of the guilty and the wicked in roleplaying games, but that is best left to the fantasy and a line drawn between it and the reality. Something that Rectify fails to do.