Devil in the Capital

Set in Iran during the pivotal year of 1952, ‘Devil in the Capital’ is a point-and-click graphic adventure where players assume the role of detective Mohammad Afshar. Amidst foreign interference, domestic sabotage, and a series of gruesome murders, Afshar investigates a conspiracy to steal Iranian oil and overthrow the government, uncovering treasonous plots and solving puzzles in a rarely-explored historical setting.

Devil in the Capital: A Curious Noir from the Caspian Coast

Introduction

In the saturated landscape of point-and-click adventures, few games dare to venture beyond the familiar Western or Japanese locales. Devil in the Capital (2017), developed by Iran-based RSK Entertainment and published by Strategy First, boldly sets its detective noir narrative in the politically charged Iran of 1952. Tasking players with investigating a string of murders amid oil-industry nationalization and foreign intrigue, the game promises a cultural rarity. Yet, beneath its intriguing premise lies a product of ambition constrained by execution. This review dissects Devil in the Capital as a historical artifact—a flawed yet fascinating glimpse into a rarely explored setting that ultimately succumbs to linear design and technical limitations, leaving players with a “brief bit of fun” rather than a lasting masterpiece.

Development History & Context

RSK Entertainment, a Tehran-based studio, crafted Devil in the Capital under the leadership of Producer Mohammadreza Reza Rahmani and Project Manager Emad Rahmani. The 25-person team leveraged the Wintermute engine, an open-source tool popular among indie developers, to deliver a 2D adventure with minimal overhead. Released on July 4, 2017, via Steam, the game arrived during a period where indie adventures were thriving but often struggled with visibility. Its context is doubly significant: as an Iranian-developed title, it navigated both creative constraints and the challenges of exporting a niche narrative to a Western audience. The publisher, Strategy First, known for mid-range titles like Space Rangers, likely provided crucial distribution support. The game’s roots in RSK’s prior work—most notably Murder in Tehran’s Alleys 2016—established its protagonist, Detective Mohammad Afshar, as a recurring figure in the studio’s attempt to build localized mystery franchises. This continuity, however, also meant carrying forward the template of its predecessor, which may have amplified design rigidity.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

The plot unfolds against the real-world backdrop of Iran’s 1951 oil nationalization, a move that incited British sabotage and destabilized the nation. Detective Mohammad Afshar, a veteran from previous RSK adventures, is dispatched to the northern city of Rasht to probe the murders of a government advocate and two police officers. The narrative quickly escalates into a web of espionage: British agents, domestic traitors, and a shadowy “Church of Satan” converge to divert attention from a coup targeting Iran’s oil reserves. The story’s strength lies in its geopolitical authenticity, weaving historical tensions with fictional conspiracies. Afshar’s internal conflict—questioning whether “Satan” is a literal entity or a “mental construct”—adds psychological depth amid the chaos. However, the narrative falters in execution. With 27 characters and 150+ pages of dialogue, the plot becomes muddled by subplots (e.g., the Church of Satan’s vague motives) and lacks consistent characterization. Characters remain functional archetypes rather than developed individuals, reducing emotional investment. The game’s dialogue, while extensive, often prioritizes exposition over natural interaction, making the political thriller feel more like a history lesson than a personal drama.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

As a traditional point-and-click adventure, Devil in the Capital emphasizes environmental interaction and puzzle-solving. Its core loop involves investigating 20+ locations—including the picturesque village of Masuleh—through a “point and select” interface. Players gather clues, solve environmental puzzles, and engage in over 12 mini-games, such as code-breaking or forensic analysis. The game’s most innovative feature is the 95-page “interactive daily notes,” which track Afshar’s deductions and require cross-referencing with in-game documents. Yet, these mechanics are undermined by severe handholding. As Adventure Gamers noted, the game “tells you what to do almost every step of the way,” eliminating the satisfaction of organic discovery. Puzzles are often simplistic, with solutions signaled by conspicuous hotspots or explicit dialogue prompts. Progression is rigidly linear, funneling players through a predetermined path that discourages exploration. Technical issues further mar the experience: Steam discussions reveal persistent bugs, save-file corruptions, and resolution locking at 1024×778—a frustrating oversight that hinders immersion. While the 5-hour runtime aligns with shorter adventures, the lack of player agency makes the journey feel more like a guided tour than an investigation.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The game’s world-building is its most compelling aspect, meticulously recreating 1950s northern Iran. Rasht’s Caspian coast, the mountainous Masuleh, and even mundane locales like boarding houses are rendered with 65 hand-drawn 2D backgrounds, prioritizing detail over dynamism. Lead Artist Davood Diba’s work excels in architectural authenticity, from the region’s distinctive wooden buildings to period-accurate props like vintage newspapers and advertisements. These artifacts—over 60 of them—serve as collectibles, enriching the lore and grounding the narrative in cultural specifics. The sound design complements this atmosphere: 60 minutes of brooding film-noir music by composer Pooya Safa underscores tension, with subtle sound effects enhancing rainy streets and tense interrogations. Motion comics (20+ minutes) bridge gaps in storytelling, though their static frames feel dated. Despite these strengths, the visuals lack cultural texture. Environments, while detailed, often resemble generic adventure backdrops (e.g., dimly lit offices), failing to leverage Iran’s unique aesthetic. The “Church of Satan,” a potential visual centerpiece, is depicted with clichéd gothic tropes, missing an opportunity to blend local folklore with noir style.

Reception & Legacy

At launch, Devil in the Capital earned a tepid 50% Metascore based on Adventure Gamers’ review, which praised its setting but lamented its linearity and handholding. Player reviews on Steam reflect similar ambivalence, with a 47% positive rating (17 reviews) citing technical flaws and repetitive gameplay. Notably, the game sparked niche interest for its Iranian setting—a rarity in Western gaming—but failed to sustain momentum. Commercially, it remains obscure, with only 336 units sold per Steam tracker data, and its wishlist count (2.2K) suggests curiosity rather than demand. Legacy-wise, the game is a footnote in RSK’s catalog, overshadowed by titles like Squadron: Sky Guardians. Its influence is negligible, as subsequent adventures (e.g., Return to Monkey Island) prioritize player agency over rigid narratives. However, it endures as a cultural artifact, preserving a slice of Iranian history in interactive form and underscoring the challenges of exporting localized stories to a global audience. For genre enthusiasts, it stands as a “curiosity”—a testament to ambition but not a blueprint for success.

Conclusion

Devil in the Capital is a paradox: a game rich in cultural and historical potential yet bogged down by design and execution. Its greatest achievement is transporting players to a rarely seen Iran, weaving a politically charged noir that resonates with real-world upheaval. Detective Mohammad Afshar is a likable protagonist, and the attention to period detail—from newspapers to architecture—creates a palpable atmosphere. Yet, these strengths are overshadowed by its linear structure, which robs players of the detective experience, and technical issues that undermine immersion. While it offers “brief fun” for completionist adventurers, its legacy is one of missed opportunities. In the pantheon of point-and-click classics, Devil in the Capital will not be remembered for its gameplay or storytelling but for its audacity. It is a flawed, fascinating artifact—a reminder that even the most compelling settings can’t compensate for a lack of player agency or technical polish. For historians of niche gaming, it’s a valuable case study; for players, it’s a curiosity best approached with tempered expectations.