The Adventures of Andrea & Alexander: Sunday that One Day

The Adventures of Andrea & Alexander: Sunday that One Day is an educational interactive adventure game from 1995 that follows two cartoon rabbits through their Sunday activities. Players guide Andrea and Alexander as they prepare for church, attend services, and explore the surrounding area of Millcreek Cove. Using point-and-click mechanics, children engage with the animated storybook environment, solving puzzles and learning lessons aligned with The Church of Latter Day Saints’ teachings. The game features fixed/flip-screen graphics and is suitable for young players.

The Adventures of Andrea & Alexander: Sunday that One Day: A Digital Sunday School Sermon

Introduction

In the pantheon of 1990s edutainment, few titles occupy such a specific cultural niche as The Adventures of Andrea & Alexander: Sunday that One Day. Released by Infobases, Inc. in 1995, this animated CD-ROM adventure is a meticulously crafted digital Sunday school lesson disguised as an interactive storybook. Following cartoon rabbits Andrea and Alexander through their Sunday rituals—from dressing for church to exploring Millcreek Cove—the game offers a rare glimpse into how religious institutions leveraged emerging multimedia technology to engage young congregants. Its legacy lies not in commercial success or technical innovation, but as a cultural artifact of faith-based pedagogy in the pre-internet era. This review argues that while its gameplay and narrative feel antiquated by modern standards, the game remains a fascinating study in purpose-driven design, where every artistic and technical choice serves its primary objective: to reinforce LDS teachings through interactive storytelling.

Development History & Context

Hailing from Infobases, Inc. (a Utah-based company specializing in LDS multimedia content), Sunday that One Day emerged from a unique confluence of religious mission and technological ambition. Directed and produced by Susan Jensen, the project marshaled a 44-person team, including artists, programmers, and writers, reflecting the studio’s commitment to creating polished, faith-aligned media. The late 1990s saw a boom in edutainment titles, but most catered to secular or academic audiences. Infobases targeted a niche market: Latter-day Saint families seeking digital tools to supplement religious education.

Technologically, the game pushed the boundaries of mid-1990s CD-ROM capabilities. Its Windows and Macintosh versions demanded MPC (Multimedia PC) compliance, with minimum requirements including a 386SX processor, 8MB RAM, and a double-speed CD-ROM drive—cutting-edge specs for the era. The developers optimized for the “interactive book” format, a genre pioneered by titles like The Living Books Series, but infused it with LDS theology. This context reveals a deliberate balancing act: creating engaging multimedia without compromising doctrinal accuracy, a tension that defined the project’s scope and execution.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

The narrative unfolds as a linear Sunday chronicle, structured into three acts: preparation, worship, and exploration. The player guides Andrea and Alexander through mundane yet symbolic rituals—selecting church attire, packing a hymnbook, and walking to meeting—culminating in sacrament service and a post-church stroll around Millcreek Cove. Dialogue is sparse but purposeful, with voiceovers (rendered in a soft, gentle tone) delivering lessons like “Remember to be reverent in the chapel” or “Sunday is a day for family.”

Characters function as didactic vessels rather than complex personas. Andrea, depicted as thoughtful, embodies the obedient child, while Alexander, curious and slightly impulsive, models the learning process. Their interactions subtly teach LDS values: reverence during sacrament service, gratitude for blessings, and stewardship of nature (e.g., not littering at Millcreek Cove). The overarching theme is “reverence,” with the game framing Sunday as a “special day” set apart from secular activities. This messaging is unambiguous but never preachy, using the rabbits’ adventures as parables for gospel principles. The absence of conflict or moral ambiguity underscores the game’s educational intent: to reinforce, not challenge, faith.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Sunday that One Day employs a “point-and-select” interface, emblematic of early CD-ROM adventures. Players navigate static, pre-rendered environments by clicking on highlighted objects or characters to trigger animations, dialogue, or scene transitions. The core loop is exploration-lite: clicking on items (e.g., a toothbrush, a hymnal, a flower) reveals educational snippets or advances the plot.

Key Systems:
– Interactive Book Mechanics: Each screen acts as a “page” with limited interactivity. Clicking a hotspot might play a short animation (e.g., Alexander hopping) or a voice clip (e.g., a Bible verse).
– Character Selection: Players alternate between Andrea and Alexander, each with unique dialogue options but identical movement paths.
– Progression: Linear and story-driven, with no branching narratives or fail states. The goal is completion, not challenge.

Flaws and Innovations:
While technically functional for its time, the gameplay feels rudimentary by today’s standards. The fixed-screen “flip” transitions (pioneered in King’s Quest) lack fluidity, and the lack of inventory or puzzles reduces interactivity to passive observation. However, the game innovates in its seamless integration of interactivity with education. Clicking a “chapel” hotspot, for example, doesn’t just change scenery—it triggers a mini-lesson on the sacrament. This design prioritizes content delivery over engagement, making the game more digital storybook than game.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The game’s world is a sanitized, idealized version of LDS suburbia. Millcreek Cove, a tree-lined park with a babbling brook, serves as a metaphor for the “beauty of God’s creations.” Environments are rendered in a warm, pastel palette—blues, yellows, and greens—evoking a storybook aesthetic. Character designs are simple but expressive: Andrea’s pink dress and Alexander’s blue sweater symbolize femininity and masculinity in traditional LDS iconography.

Art Direction: Led by Wayne Tew, the art team blended 2D cel animation with pre-rendered backgrounds to create a cohesive, storybook-like feel. Characters move with stiff but charming animations, while backgrounds are rich in detail (e.g., stained-glass windows in the chapel). The style aligns with LDS cultural depictions of family and nature, avoiding any modern or secular imagery.

Sound Design: Kathy alRudan’s score is gentle, piano-driven, and repetitive, setting a reverent tone. Sound effects—chirping birds, rustling leaves, and chapel bells—enhance immersion without distraction. Voice acting is clear and patient, though occasionally robotic. The audio design reinforces the game’s thematic core: Sunday as a day of quiet reflection.

Reception & Legacy

Contemporary reception of Sunday that One Day is difficult to quantify, as MobyGames and the Internet Archive lack critic reviews. Its niche audience—LDS families—likely embraced it as a supplemental tool, while mainstream gamers ignored it. Commercially, it never charted, reflecting its limited appeal.

Legacy and Influence:
The game’s enduring significance lies in its preservationist appeal. Archived on the Internet Archive and discussed in Reddit threads (e.g., a 2017 post seeking the game), it has become a cultural touchstone for millennial Mormons. Infobases later bundled it in the Infobases Family Library (1998) alongside scripture stories, cementing its role in LDS digital history. While it didn’t influence broader game design, it exemplifies how religious organizations used CD-ROMs to create “safe” digital spaces for children—a precursor to today’s faith-based apps. Its preservation by projects like the eXoWin3x GitHub archive underscores its status as a historical artifact.

Conclusion

The Adventures of Andrea & Alexander: Sunday that One Day is less a video game and more a digital time capsule of 1990s Mormon childhood. Its simplicity and didacticism—once revolutionary for faith-based media—now feel quaint, yet its dedication to purpose-driven design remains admirable. The game succeeds as an educational tool, seamlessly blending interactivity with theology, but fails as entertainment by modern standards. Its legacy is not in gameplay innovation but in its cultural specificity, offering a window into how technology mediated religious instruction in an analog-digital transition. For historians and scholars of gaming or religion, it’s an invaluable artifact. For players, it’s a charming, if dated, relic of a Sunday school past. Verdict: A niche historical curiosity with surprising emotional resonance for its intended audience.