The Cameron Files: Pharaoh's Curse

Review by Jen
December 2002

Plain vanilla. The antithesis of "groundbreaking." Same ol' same ol'. This is a difficult review to write because there's really not a whole lot to say about Pharaoh's Curse.

This lackluster effort is a followup to Loch Ness (released in North America as The Cameron Files: Secret at Loch Ness, or something like that—after all, why use two words when 20 will do?), and the events of Pharaoh's Curse follow but are almost completely unrelated to those in Loch Ness.

As the game starts, Our Hero, globetrotting private detective Alan Parker Cameron, is plunked down in 1930s Cairo (that's in Egypt, you know—real original location for an adventure game, huh?) to keep a date with Moira MacFarley, winsome young thing from Loch Ness. The hotel's deskman sends Our Hero off to a museum of Egyptian antiquities per the Girl's instructions, but when Our Hero arrives there, said Girl is nowhere in evidence. So what does Our Hero do? Why, snoop, of course, and pick up anything that his pixel hunt happens to uncover.

Eventually he unearths a paper-thin plot dealing with Nazis and magical artifacts, evil mummies (mummy, I mean; there's only one), and ... well, that's about it. In a race against time, Our Hero must solve the mystery and ... not stop World War II? Okay, he's really just retracing the footsteps of the Girl and trying to get, shall we say, closer? to her, and meanwhile those pesky Nazis keep getting in his way. The mummy rears his ugly head every once in a while to throw in the obligatory element of danger, with the inevitable Wanadoo-style timed sequences that result in numerous instant deaths for the ever-resilient-courtesy-of-frequent-saves Mr. Cameron.

Puzzles are run-of-the-mill inventory-usage brain teasers. At least there are no mazes this time around. That underwater maze in Loch Ness was a fun-sucker to be sure, and I'm glad the developers paid heed to the plaintive wails of the players and ditched that stupid idea. The puzzles are actually fairly organic to the game and some are pretty creative; others obviously are nothing more than filler, though.

Interface is pure point-and-click. A left click interacts with onscreen things or persons, and a right click brings up the inventory. Inside the inventory, besides the items you pick up, are a wallet where all of the papers you steal end up and another folio of sorts where you can replay the game's cutscenes in case you missed something due to an untimely musical crescendo or a howler monkey in the same room. There are no subtitles, unfortunately. Save game slots are limited to 16 (I think), but the amount proved to be more than sufficient. If you are a Dramamine junkie, be forewarned: this is one of those games where the cursor is affixed to the center of the screen and everything revolves around it.

This is not a difficult game if you are well-versed in adventuring arcana. New players might be put off by some of the nonsensical devices employed, but old hands will find themselves on familiar ground—we've all trodden it enough times in the past that for us this can be viewed as a, well, retread. Sometimes there are far too many locations that must be revisited in order to perform minute cursor-sweeping inspections for that one teeny item you've overlooked, particularly in the museum.

The graphics are passable. They look nice and are clear and well laid out. They are pretty lifeless, though. A big chunk of the game takes place on a Nile riverboat, and while you're outside looking at the water, you hear the gentle waves lapping on the sides of the boat ... but the water doesn't move. You hear birds in the background, but you never see anything in the skies. After you finish talking to the barman, he will go back to what he was doing, and then he will just be there ... moving his arm up and down, up and down, up and down, bobbing his head up and down, up and down ... every time you go back. And that's if you're lucky. Usually there is no one at all in evidence anywhere you go. People always talk about those lonely first-person Myst clones—this is a lonely first-person I-don't-know-what,-maybe-Wanadoo? clone.

The software itself installed and ran well, although I had to deal with a couple of minor glitches. I did the full install on my Windows XP laptop with only a 4 MB onboard video chip; at first the game wouldn't run at all. But I looked at all of the shortcuts put on the Start menu and saw one called "Configure Pharaoh's Curse" that allowed me to switch to software rendering. After that, I had a couple of hard crashes outside the game, and when Windows restarted and did that disk-checking thing, it repaired a couple of Pharaoh's Curse files. I don't know what was changed or why, but both times the game, and the rest of my computer, ran fine afterward.

Pharaoh's Curse is nothing more than another cookie-cutter game to fill the Cryo vacuum. I could always go off on another rant about how "the genre is ripe for innovation and so why are we continually force-fed this kind of tripe," but I'll let my rotten egg do my talking for me. There is nothing inherently wrong with Pharaoh's Curse, it's just that it's all, and I do mean all, been done before and I was bored the whole time I was playing. The End

The Verdict

The Lowdown

Developer: Galilea
Publisher: Dreamcatcher
Release Date: October 2002

Available for: Windows

Four Fat Chicks Links

Player Feedback


Click to enlarge Click to enlarge
Click to enlarge Click to enlarge
Click to enlarge Click to enlarge
Click to enlarge Click to enlarge
Click to enlarge Click to enlarge
Click to enlarge Click to enlarge

System Requirements

Windows 98/2000/ME/XP
PII 233 MHz (500 MHz recommended)
16X CD-ROM drive
DirectX compatible video card (16 MB 3D accelerated recommended)
DirectX compatible sound card

Where to Find It

Links provided for informational purposes only. FFC makes no warranty with regard to any transaction entered into by any party(ies).

Copyright © Electric Eye Productions. All rights reserved.
No reproduction in whole or in part without express written permission.