I knew “The Morrison Game Factory” had its hooks in me when I started talking back to it. There I was, alone and at home, and in conversation with a fictional machine.
Puzzles were sprawled around me. Colorful dice, a small board, little plastic rocket ships and a stack of cards with seemingly disconnected drawings on them — a golfer, a mushroom, a diver and more. I was about two hours into Lauren Bello’s puzzle game, but I was devouring it more as a story. That’s because “The Morrison Game Factory” unfolds as an interactive narrative, one in which each challenge unlocks another mini-chapter in a tale of friendship, loneliness and even grief.
There were some moments the puzzles stumped me. I used the hint system on one involving numbers. But more often I found myself pausing to reflect — affected by a touching phrase. An example: “I like that, that talking to me isn’t work for him,” an observation about what it feels like to be in true conversation and connection with someone. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting when I opened a bewitching, vintage-tinged box detailing a fantastical assembly line and saw a smattering of board game figurines. Later, I felt an urgency to complete the game, especially once the relationship at its core is severed.
That’s when I wanted to communicate with the main character of “The Morrison Game Factory.” I sat, caught in contemplation, mulling over moments in my life in which I’ve had to navigate separation and heartbreak. Such is the power of Bello’s tabletop puzzle tale. There was no time to dwell, however. In seconds I was back at it, arranging little wooden people — meeples, as they’re known — around a pinwheel with numbers at the end of each spoke. There were puzzles to solve, and a story of loneliness to cure.