"Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed; everything else is public relations." – George Orwell

As a title, Mexico, 1921: A Deep Slumber could evoke conflicting sensations from anyone who knows basic Mexican history.  After all, "slumber" seems antithetical to describing the dawn of a post-revolutionary nation with a newly-minted constitution.  This creative decision is made clearer after it opens with the assassination of then-residing President Álvaro Obregón.  Inspector General Roberto Cruz and the police have the assassin in custody, and yet there are still a bevy of unanswered questions.  But Cruz isn't the main protagonist of this story; an infamous journalist held in the basement is.  The question for him and Mácula Interactive is essentially the same: is this story worth the paper it's printed on?

After establishing the fallout of Obregón's assassination in 1928, we're quickly flashbacked to 1921 with a younger – and more naïve – Juan Aguirre, the newest photojournalist for the "El Unilateral" newspaper.  His initial tasks regarding an upcoming national parade are the type of rote filler typical for mechanically-limited narrative adventures, but something else is amiss.  His rapid ascension in editorial draws attention from fellow colleagues, including his eventual close friend/accomplice at the paper: Archivero.  What starts as a chance meeting blossoms into disinterring a potential conspiracy that's poised to fracture this nascent country.


Two disparate yet foundational pillars are gleaned from this first meeting: the subtle-as-a-sledgehammer storytelling and the picture-taking mechanic.  After Archivero's histrionic palaver about the duty of good journalism and yada yada yada, Juan acquires an old-timey camera that enables you to alter the zoom, depth of field, and aperture in real time.  Slumber's old-fashioned photography doesn't quite reach Martha Is Dead’s mechanics – which enable both the taking and processing of your snaps – but its stronger thematic emphasis is better at developing the shutterbug in you. 

The player – through Juan – isn't merely a bystander with a proto-Polaroid but an active participant in framing this timeline.  The political context fuels photographic exploration.  Important landmarks and characters are signposted for you to photograph, many of which unlock extra historical commentary, but you don't have to stop there.  Whether dabbling in a bit of voyeurism when capturing romantic moments between NPC couples, photographing important political and cultural figures, or cataloguing some of Mexico's historic sites, this 1920s world is effectively your oyster.  It's fortunate, then, that the camera feels satisfying to use; there's something about how it leans over Juan's shoulder and towards his stomach that consistently feels smooth and intuitive.  It's by far the game's best feature.


Sadly, that "ludonarrative harmony" (if you will) between player and mechanic is blunted by Slumber's unpolished Telltale-like foundation.  If you've played one, you've played them all: the mechanically-limited template of exploring confined quasi-open areas for fetch quests and stopping for the occasional dialogue decision.  A spare few choices do carry some meaningful impact, but most are about determining the tone of Inspector Cruz or Juan.  It's the usual routine at this point, but that wouldn't be a huge issue if the controls and design didn't feel so stilted and unsatisfying.  Even with its own Detective Vision and many cutscenes deliberately aiming at points of interest, exploration can sometimes leave you running in circles.  Some interactable items will be highlighted via UI that can't be touched yet; after all, that would be getting ahead of the story.  This stultifying structure is the norm, rather than the exception.

Past lackluster design, Mácula Interactive's nascence reveals itself most clearly through copious bugs and aggravating technical errors.  The list of foibles and lacking features is quite astounding:

• The only settings (currently) are between English or Spanish voice acting and English or Spanish subtitles.
• There's only one save file and no unlockable chapters after completing them.  You want to see disparate consequences?  Replay the 5-hour campaign from the beginning.
• Certain story-related cutscenes necessary to progress would fail to load, which then demanded I restart from scratch.
• Copious flickering visual bugs (in-game and during cutscenes).
• Certain NPC animations (dancing, chanting, etc.) having a wildly lower framerate, resulting in an off-putting visual mismatch.
• Sound foley was seemingly recorded at the bottom of a well.
• Frequent button-mashing required before it eventually registers that I want to grab an interactable item.
• Glitched achievements.
  

I generally try to avoid listing out complaints, but there's really no better way to stress Slumber's multitudinous errors – varying in frequency and degree.  And try as I might to be sympathetic to this freshman team, Deep Slumber does retail at $19.99.  There's an expected level of professionalism for a modest indie price that this team simply doesn't reach.


Archivero's aforementioned candor towards Juan is reflective of Slumber's storytelling as a whole: calling attention to its self-importance without properly earning that privilege.  When looking at the topic of journalistic ethics and one's duty to a citizenry, having Juan thrust to prominence within a contemptible news agency – which secretly gives panegyrics to the highest bidder – is a great concept.  But the sporadic time jumps and lumpy pacing never provide the right connective tissue to follow these characters alongside Mexico's tumultuous history.  You're given reams of lore dumps about competing ideologies and factions, without the tangible buildup necessary to connect with them; as a result, the more personal plotlines don't really blossom either.

To its credit, one singular chapter understood the assignment.  A rooftop soirée assembled with the who's who of Mexican artists and cultural figureheads is a better setting to pal around and talk big ideas: cosmopolitanism, nationalism, communism, and so on.  Everyone's gnomic declarations beneath the night sky – which I assume actually reflects their real-life counterparts' beliefs – works here because the preceding setup helps to better balance characterization and plot momentum.  Everything before and after this level feels narratively-confused by comparison.


"Confused" is also an appropriate way to describe Mácula's presentational goals.  Aside from the aforementioned technical errors, Slumber lands in a peculiar middle ground between basic Unity Engine assets, fresco-painted backdrops, and Claymation character models seemingly inspired by that sausage finger universe in Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.  There's a surreal sort of ugliness to this clumpy soup of diverse influences.  Conversely, Mike Fortu & Carlos Ramírez's soundtrack branches to various musical genres (ranchera, son, etc.) that successfully meld with this era – oftentimes diegetically incorporated.  And though the Spanish-speaking cast doesn't deliver sterling efforts per se, this should've strictly been a foreign-language game for two reasons: artistic authenticity and preventing anyone from hearing several of the wretched English voiceovers; even then, any decent performances are partially deflated by poor sound recording.  Again, too many clear signs of lacking professionalism.

There's a unique split that Mexico, 1921: A Deep Slumber has to wrestle with.  On the one hand, its depth of knowledge for this unique time period creates a tangible sense of place; on the other, nearly every fundamental is mismanaged to the point of aggravation.  Its stultifying design fares worse than weaker Telltale adventure games, the inconsistent narrative rings hollow by the end, and the consistent surfeit of technical errors show this wasn't ready for release.  To that end, Mácula Interactive's freshman effort reaches a strange flashpoint: where a rare couple of its features deserve in-depth examination while being wrapped in a game you'd never want to touch.

Contractor by trade and writer by hobby, Lee's obnoxious criticisms have found a way to be featured across several gaming sites: N4G, VGChartz, Gaming Nexus, DarkStation, and TechRaptor! He started gaming in the mid-90s and has had the privilege in playing many games across a plethora of platforms. Reader warning: each click given to his articles only helps to inflate his Texas-sized ego. Proceed with caution.