THE GOAT WHO STARES AT MEN
The opening lines of Broken Sword: The Shadow of the Templars, uttered against a black screen, are as good as they come. Before anything is even shown, the game suggests a grand, romantic, and sophisticated adventure to come. It sets the stage for a season seen through someone else’s lens of nostalgia. When the opening credits roll over a panoramic view of Paris, the superb soundtrack—composed by Barrington Pheloung, best known for his iconic Inspector Morse theme—only reinforces this impression.
Before this playthrough, I had already completed Shadow of the Templars a handful of times, so I knew it would not fully live up to those expectations. Still, the opening manages to instil a sense of goodwill every time, carrying me through endless backtracking, expository dialogue, and half-hearted jokes. Who says first impressions don’t matter?
BACKSEAT DETECTIVE MYSTERY
The point-and-click adventure Shadow of the Templars was released in 1996, during the twilight of the genre’s heyday. By then, the graphical user interface had been refined to near-minimalism. Here, it consists only of a pop-up inventory and dialogue topics that appear during conversations. The two mouse buttons cover all actions: the left adapts to the cursor’s position, while the right is reserved for examining objects.
Through these simplifications, the developers at Revolution Software were able to design the game as a kind of archaeological detective mystery. Think The Da Vinci Code, and you’re not far off. The genre’s traditional focus on inventory and command-based puzzles is largely absent. Instead, the player is expected to conduct historical research by interviewing characters and inspecting environments. This is why, despite having played it many times before, I once again managed to get stuck.
Compared to a game like The Secret of Monkey Island—which I could probably solve in my sleep—the puzzles here simply aren’t as memorable. They mostly boil down to the same basic actions: talking and examining. It feels less like a test of deductive skill and more like methodical detective work, since you rarely need to perform unique actions or clever item combinations.
Stuck? Have you talked to everyone and still made no progress? Then try examining everything—and everyone—before talking to everyone again. You may have unlocked new dialogue options without realizing it. This approach isn’t inherently flawed, but it is different. Once all the puzzle pieces are in place, the player characters tend to make most of the deductions themselves.
This allows the player to adopt an even more passive role, better soaking in story details and atmosphere. The design philosophy can be traced back to earlier genre classics such as Cruise for a Corpse (1991), a murder mystery I have yet to play. Fans of traditional inventory puzzles need not worry—there are a few here as well. They’re just rarely very challenging.
A MURDER MYSTERY EMERGES
The story begins with our protagonist, American tourist George Stobbart (voiced by veteran actor Rolf Saxon), enjoying the autumn sun outside a Parisian café. A polite old man passes by and steps inside, interrupting George’s flirting with the waitress and souring his mood slightly. Moments later, a clown arrives, playing a sinister tune on his accordion before entering the café himself. He grabs the old man’s briefcase, replaces it with the accordion, and rushes toward a nearby alley.
The accordion promptly explodes, killing the old man instantly and destroying the café’s interior. The waitress is unharmed but understandably shaken. George survives as well, dazed but protected by an umbrella on his table that deflects the blast. He rises to his feet.
This is where you take control, guiding George through an adventure tied to an age-old conflict between the Knights Templar and the Assassins. He teams up with a newfound friend, the French journalist Nicole Collard (Hazel Ellerby). The two make a charming pair and clearly grow fond of each other over the course of the game. Together they chase an assassin with a thousand faces across the globe—though in practice, George does most of the traveling while Nico conducts research from home.
It’s a grim opening, but the dark subject matter is offset by gorgeous, sun-drenched backgrounds and lighthearted character designs. Describing it makes the story sound like a Tom Clancy thriller, but the tone is much closer to a Tintin comic. It’s a pleasant, laid-back adventure led by intelligent characters whose sardonic remarks sometimes make me smile—and sometimes cringe. The writing is mostly solid, though certain characters veer uncomfortably close to caricature, and the protagonists often seem oddly unfazed by the threat of imminent death.
TECHNICAL AND DESIGN ISSUES
Fully voiced dialogue was still relatively novel in 1996, which likely explains some uneven voice acting and audio mixing. It only becomes a real problem during an out-of-engine cutscene in which Nicole Collard narrates the history of the Knights Templar. Here, the music is mixed so loudly that it completely drowns out her dialogue. With no subtitles available, I still don’t know what she says. Overall, though, the voice work is competent.
Character animation is somewhat bland, and close-ups reveal a visual simplicity that borders on crude. At times, it even feels as though the characters were drawn by different artists who hadn’t yet settled on a unified style.
More frustrating is the game’s obsessive need for George to explicitly notice everything. Imagine spotting a shifty man flipping a coin in a street corner. You examine him, and the game confirms that he looks suspicious. Later, you realize you need a coin and return to him—only to find that the dialogue option to ask for it doesn’t appear. No amount of persistence helps.
The solution? You must examine him again. This time, George suddenly notices that the man is flipping a coin of the exact value another character requested, unlocking the conversation option.
This isn’t an actual puzzle from the game, but it illustrates one of its core design flaws. It isn’t enough for you to see the solution; George must explicitly catch on as well. Even if nothing has changed, a single examination may not suffice. This failure to communicate progress is the game’s biggest weakness—and one that unfortunately plagues the series as a whole.
I’d also be remiss not to mention the infamous goat puzzle, frequently cited as one of the worst adventure game puzzles ever designed. It was so notorious that it was entirely removed from the 2009 Director’s Cut release. Once you encounter the goat, you might as well look up the solution. Solving it relies on a mechanic the game never teaches you and never uses again. You might get lucky—as I did on my first playthrough—or you might be stuck indefinitely.
SWEET AND INNOCENT
Those are my complaints. Don’t let them discourage you. Of the opening cinematic’s promises of grandeur, romance, and sophistication, the game delivers a little of each—more than most titles managed in 1996. After a barrage of fast-paced games, few experiences are as calming as a classic point-and-click adventure, and Shadow of the Templars excels at easing the player into a relaxed state of mind.
Viewed today, it may feel somewhat slight for a story-driven game. What once seemed mature now comes across as sweet and innocent. These qualities aren’t worse—just different. While I once considered Shadow of the Templars a personal favorite, I can no longer say that it is. There isn’t much depth to uncover beyond a light history lesson and a pleasant few evenings of play. Time has not been kind to the genre, and this game is no exception.
Still, it holds a special place in my heart. Any point-and-click aficionado should give it a try.
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