Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective 3 – The Case of the Mystified Murderess

Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective 3 – The Case of the Mystified Murderess is a full-motion video adventure game set in the Victorian London of Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories. Players step into the shoes of Sherlock Holmes, aided by Dr. Watson, to unravel the mystery of an amnesiac woman seemingly guilty of murder, through immersive detective work that includes visiting crime scenes, interviewing witnesses, and researching via period journalism and the Baker Street Irregulars.

Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective 3 – The Case of the Mystified Murderess: A Living Fossil of Interactive Narrative

Introduction: The Consulting Detective’s Last Case

To approach Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective 3 – The Case of the Mystified Murderess is to engage in a form of digital archaeology. Released in 2012 as the finale of a trilogy reviving a pioneering 1991 franchise, this game exists in a liminal space—simultaneously a nostalgic artifact, a faithful adaptation of a 1981 tabletop “gamebook,” and a curious anachronism in the modern adventure game landscape. Its very existence speaks to the enduring power of its foundational concept: a pure, unadulterated detective simulation devoid of combat or traditional puzzles, where deduction is the sole mechanic and your wits are the only weapon. This review will argue that The Mystified Murderess is not merely a historical curiosity but a vital, if deeply flawed, testament to a specific and influential design philosophy. It is a game that captures the tactile, bibliophilic thrill of research and inference, even as its narrative execution in this third installment reveals the strain of translating a board game’s open-ended mysteries into a linear,FMV-branching format. Its legacy is twofold: as a preserved relic of early interactive multimedia ambition and as a case study in the inherent difficulties of adapting the open-ended chaos of detective work into a predetermined digital path.

Development History & Context: From Gamebook to FMV and Back Again

The Original Vision (1981-1991): The true genesis of this title lies not in code, but in paper. The 1981 gamebook Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective, designed by Suzanne Goldberg and Gary Grady (credited in the 2012 version as “Based on an Original Design by Sleuth Times”), was a revolutionary physical product. It provided players with a map of London, a directory, copies of The London Times, and a booklet of case summaries. The player, as Holmes, decided where to go and whom to interview, reading numbered paragraphs that corresponded to those choices. This created an unparalleled sense of agency and non-linear investigation, though with a rigid, underlying structure.

ICOM Simulations, under the direction of Kenneth Tarolla, recognized the potential of the CD-ROM’s “emerging optical technologies” to realize this experience with sound and, crucially, live-action video. The 1991 original, with a budget exceeding $2 million (a staggering sum for a PC adventure at the time), was a landmark. It transferred the gamebook’s core loop—Directory > Visit > FMV Scene > Gather Clues > Formulate Solution—into a new medium, using full-motion video (FMV) to bring Victorian London and its inhabitants to life. The three cases were considered a complete set.

The 2012 Revival: Zojoi’s Quixotic Quest: By 2012, the original FMV games were technological relics. David Marsh and Karl Roelofs, veterans from the ICOM days, formed Zojoi, LLC to “preserve and re-release” these titles. Their mission, as stated on their website, was to “reproduce the award-winning… video mysteries” with “recaptured video, high-resolution graphics.” This was not a remake, but a restoration and port. They leveraged modern tools to digitize and upscale the aging footage, adapt the interface for touchscreens (iPad debut) and modern OSs (Windows/Mac in 2015), and package the three cases as a collection. Crucially, this third case, The Mystified Murderess, was the final piece of the “initial re-launch,” completing the trilogy that the 1991 release had established.

The development context is one of archival passion over commercial ambition. The failed 2012 Kickstarter (which raised only a third of its $55,000 goal) underscores this; as noted on Wikipedia, the funds were never truly needed, with Zojoi using the campaign primarily for awareness. The game was built using Adobe Flash Professional (as listed on ModDB), a tool more associated with web animation than hardcore gaming, highlighting its status as a carefully curated museum piece rather than a cutting-edge product. It was released into an era dominated by 3D open-world detective games like L.A. Noire (2011) and the sophisticated narrative adventures of Telltale Games, making itsFMV, menu-driven approach feel both archaic and defiantly pure.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive: The Amnesiac’s Burden

Plot Synopsis & Structure: Set on July 4, 1888—chronologically the earliest of the three revived cases—the mystery opens with a dramatic tableau: Francis (or Frances) Nolan is found over the body of her lover, Guy Clarendon, in a London hotel, pistol in hand. She claims amnesia, denying any memory of the murder or even buying the gun found on her. The evidence is damning, yet a client, Gerald Locke, believes in her innocence. Holmes and Watson must unravel the truth.

The narrative structure is a direct heir to the gamebook: the player explores 20+ characters (including returning figures like Inspector Lestrade, Shinwell Johnson, and Langdale Pike from the Doyle canon), visits locations via a Directory, and pores over digitized copies of The London Times for period-accurate clues. The solution is presented to a “Queen’s magistrate” in a final interrogation scene, a clever framing device that replaces the gamebook’s score sheet with a dramatic climax.

Thematic Failures: The “Mystified” in the Title: Here, the adaptation’s weaknesses become starkly apparent. The case is widely considered the weakest of the trilogy, a sentiment echoed in the board game review by Majanka Verstraete, which notes the culprit has “no real motivation” and the evidence is “circumstantial at best.” In the video game format, this fatal flaw is exacerbated. The FMV scenes are fixed performances; there is no room for the ambiguous, player-driven discovery that might make a weak motive feel plausible. You are shown pre-filmed reactions and confessions. If the underlying script does not provide a satisfying, logically inevitable “Aha!” moment where all threads converge, the player feels cheated. Holmes’s famous dictum, “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” rings hollow when the “improbable” solution feels tacked-on rather than earned.

The theme of amnesia and identity—the “mystified murderess”—is potent but underdeveloped. Nolan’s condition is a MacGuffin. The game explores her past and Clarendon’s “dark past” (a swindler, a fortune-squanderer) but fails to deeply interrogate the psychological or legal implications of a memoryless accused. The Victorian setting, the “Belle Époque” atmosphere, is window dressing without thematic depth in this particular case. Where The Mummy’s Curse leverages its supernatural rumors and The Tin Soldier explores the intricate cruel logic of a Tontine lottery, The Mystified Murderess collapses into a relatively straightforward, if poorly motivated, tale of blackmail and revenge.

Dialogue and Performance: The acting, filmed on soundstages with period props (credits list “Scenery and Prop Design” and “Costumes”), is solidly professional—what Computer Gaming World in 1992 called “low-end television production quality… equal to an average public television production.” There is a charming, theatrical earnestness to the performances (from a cast including Laurie Bauman Arnold and Annie Fox in the screenplay, and Teri Marsh in scripting). However, they are constrained by a lack of branching dialogue. You are an audience member to Holmes’s and Watson’s questions, not a participant shaping the conversation. This reinforces the player’s role as a director of investigations rather than a conversationalist, but it also means the narrative’s quality is entirely dependent on the pre-written script, which here is its Achilles’ heel.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems: The Detective’s Toolkit

The Core Loop: Research as Gameplay: The genius of the Consulting Detective system is its地图式 (map-like), bibliographic gameplay. The interface presents Holmes’s study as a hub. From here, the player accesses:
1. The Directory: A list of persons and places to “visit.” Choosing one triggers an FMV scene (if relevant) or an audio clip of Holmes and Watson discussing the irrelevance of the choice (a penalty to your score).
2. The London Times Archive: A searchable (in the modern version) or page-flipping digital replica of period newspapers. Articles contain explicit clues and contextual color.
3. The Baker Street Irregulars: A button to “send” the street urchins to gather gossip or track down a person, returning with an audio report.
4. Holmes’s Files: A reference to past cases and general knowledge (often used for final answers).
5. Watson’s Hints: An explicit hint system, acknowledging that the original game’s opacity could be frustrating. This is a modern concession that guides players who are truly stuck.

This loop is inherently non-violent, non-timed, and contemplative. The “challenge” is intellectual: connecting disparate facts (a name in a newspaper ad, a mention in a directory, a comment from a witness) to form a coherent theory. The system is elegant in its simplicity and directly translates the tabletop experience.

Scoring and Replayability: After presenting your solution to the magistrate, you receive a score based on the number of “visits” (Directory choices) it took to solve the case. The goal is to beat Holmes’s fictional score. This is both a brilliant and brutal mechanic. It brilliantly encourages efficient, hypothesis-driven investigation rather than exhaustive clicking. However, it also punishes exploration. In The Mystified Murderess, where the “correct” path is narrower and the clues less intuitively connected, a player’s natural curiosity can lead to a poor score, creating a sense of failure even when morally convinced of the solution’s justice. Replayability is virtually zero. The FMV sequences and clue placements are static. Once the solution is known, the game becomes a hollow ritual. This was a criticism even in 1991 (Computer Gaming World noted “limited play life due to lack of replayability”), and it remains the series’ primary mechanical flaw.

UI and Modern Adaptations: The 2012 port’s interface is clean and functional, built for touch. The “seamless save-game system” is essential for a game where you might spend an hour cross-referencing notes between sessions. The inclusion of full subtitles (as listed on Steam) is a vital accessibility feature for the heavily dialogue-driven FMV. However, the reliance on Adobe Air (system requirements mention it) dates the Windows version, and some Steam community posts indicate modern compatibility issues (“Game not start – help”), a common problem with legacy Flash/Air ports. The 12 Steam Achievements, including one for the “lowest score possible” (a “perfect run” to match Holmes), cleverly gamify the scoring system but do nothing to address the core linearity.

World-Building, Art & Sound: A Foggy, Well-Lit Stage

Visual Direction and FMV as Atmosphere: The world of Consulting Detective is not rendered in real-time 3D but constructed from filmed sets and location shots (likely soundstages and London exteriors). The 2012 “recapture” and upscaling process gives the video a stark, high-contrast clarity that contrasts with the expected “foggy” Victorian aesthetic. This has a fascinating effect: the world feels theatrical and staged, which is ironically appropriate for Holmes’s deductive process—a man who sees the stage, not just the scene. The “Belle Époque” setting is conveyed through costumes (credited to Jean Williamson) and props (Chris Johnson, Greg Cornell). It’s less a gritty, immersive London and more a period pageant. While this lacks the environmental storytelling of a Frogwares title or the gothic decay of The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes, it serves the board-game adaptation perfectly: clear, readable spaces where clues can be visibly placed.

Sound Design and Score: Greg Brown’s score is functional, providing ominous or contemplative underscoring for FMV scenes. It is rarely memorable but always mood-appropriate. The sound design’s hero is the audio-only responses for incorrect directory choices—Holmes and Watson’s quips and sighs are a delightful, in-character惩罚 (punishment) for wasting their time. The voice acting, while not illustrious, is crisp and carries the weight of the script. The limitation is the same as the visuals: a recorded performance, not a dynamic soundscape. The atmosphere is created through composition and performance, not interactive audio.

The London Times Archive asset Dressing: The digital newspaper is a standout environmental element. It’s not just a clue repository; it’s a world-building tool. Advertisements for dubious patent medicines, society gossip, shipping news, and political editorials create a palpable sense of being in July 1888 London. This is where the adaptation shines, translating the gamebook’s tactile research into a satisfying digital interaction. The act of scrolling, searching for keywords, and finding a crucial article feels more authentically “detective-like” than many modern games’ highlight-mechanics.

Reception & Legacy: A Niche Preserved

Contemporary Reception (1991): The original 1991 trilogy was a critical and commercial success for its time. Computer Gaming World called it “a ground-breaking product with whiz-bang technology that demonstrates the full potential of multimedia,” though it qualified this with notes on limited replayability. Dragon magazine gave the TurboGrafx-CD version a perfect 5 stars. Over 360,000 copies were sold across all platforms by 1994 (Screen Digest). It was a pioneer, proving that complex, intellectual gameplay could be packaged with the then-novel allure of full-motion video.

The 2012/2015 Re-release Reception: The modern re-release exists in a different ecosystem. On Steam, The Mystified Murderess individually holds a “Mostly Positive” (74%) rating from 35 reviews. Community feedback highlights two poles: nostalgic appreciation (“Great for what it is, a piece of gaming history”) and frustration with dated design (“FMV adventure with almost no gameplay,” “clunky interface”). The board game community, as seen in Majanka Verstraete’s review, often holds the video adaptation in lower regard than the original board game, citing its inflexibility and, in this case’s specific narrative weakness. The technical issues mentioned (game not starting, Air dependency) plague its legacy on modern PCs.

Influence and Legacy:
1. The FMV Adventure Genre: It was a flagship title for the FMV era, alongside The 7th Guest and Phantasmagoria. It demonstrated that FMV could serve complex, non-horror narratives and gameplay. Its legacy is one of a high-water mark for thoughtful, non-action FMV.
2. The Detective Sim Blueprint: Its core loop—hub-based research, non-linear clue gathering, deduction to solution—is the clear ancestor of later, more sophisticated titles. The Sherlock Holmes series by Frogwares (starting with The Mystery of the Mummy in 2004) evolved this template into 3D, adding inventory puzzles and scene inspection, but the DNA of consulting, researching, and presenting is unmistakable. Even narrative-heavy titles like Return of the Obra Dinn (2018) echo the “gather facts, deduce the story” philosophy.
3. A Preserved Artifact: Zojoi’s work is fundamentally an act of preservation. Like the DVD re-release mentioned in the Wikipedia article, it makes a title that was bound to obsolete hardware accessible. It exists for the historian and the completist, offering a direct, playable link to 1990s design thinking. Its availability on Steam and GOG (as part of the collection) ensures it remains accessible, warts and all.
4. The “Un-remakable” Game: Its greatest contemporary significance may be as a case against traditional remasters. The game’s architecture—branching FMV pre-rendered for specific paths—is fundamentally non-adaptive. A true remake would require a complete rebuild in a modern engine with new writing, new acting, and a vastly expanded clue web, essentially成为一个全新的游戏 (becoming a wholly new game). Zojoi’s restoration is thus the only viable path to its survival.

Conclusion: Verdict on a Consulting Detective

Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective 3 – The Case of the Mystified Murderess is an imperfect time capsule. As a standalone narrative experience, it is the weakest of its trilogy, suffering from a contrived plot and a solution that lacks the satisfying deductive elegance the brand promises. As a piece of game design, it is a fascinating study in purity and limitation: its mechanics are laser-focused on research and deduction but are hamstrung by a static, pre-authored mystery that cannot react to the player’s unique intellectual journey.

Its ultimate worth lies not in its moment-to-moment play, but in its historical and philosophical importance. It is the direct descendant of a groundbreaking gamebook and a pioneering FMV title. It represents a specific, now-rare design ideology where the joy is in the process of discovery itself, not in cinematic spectacle or skill-based challenges. Playing it today is less about judging it by 2025 standards and more about understanding an evolutionary branch of the adventure game that prioritized the mind’s eye over the rendered scene.

Final Verdict: For the game historian, the dedicated Sherlockian, or the curious student of interactive narrative, this restored artifact is essential, albeit difficult, viewing. Its value is archival. For the player seeking a compelling, well-crafted detective story, the narrative shortcomings of The Mystified Murderess are too fundamental to overlook. It earns its place in history not as a masterpiece, but as a meticulously preserved living fossil—a window into a world where detective work meant poring over clippings and trusting your own reason, and where the greatest technology could only faithfully capture the words on the page, not the sparks in your mind. It is, in the end, a testament to the enduring appeal of thinking as gameplay, even when the story stumbles.