Timelapse: Ancient Civilizations…the Link to Atlantis

Timelapse is a puzzle-solving adventure game similar to Myst. It starts with you receiving an urgent message from an archaeologist friend working in the Easter Islands on a ancient link to lost civilizations. You arrive at his dig site to find him missing. You are the only person who can find him and your search will eventually lead you to the ancient Egyptian, Mayan, Anasazi, and the lost city of Atlantis.

Timelapse: Ancient Civilizations…the Link to Atlantis: A Timeless Puzzle Odyssey

Introduction

In the mid-1990s, as the adventure genre redefined itself through the revolutionary lens of pre-rendered environments, Timelapse: Ancient Civilizations…the Link to Atlantis emerged as a bold contender to the throne held by Myst. Developed by GTE Entertainment and released in 1996, this ambitious title tasked players not with escaping a mysterious island, but with unraveling a cosmic mystery spanning Easter Island, Egypt, the Mayan Empire, Anasazi cliff dwellings, and the fabled city of Atlantis. While often dismissed as a mere Myst clone, Timelapse stands as a meticulously crafted, historically-inspired puzzle adventure that transcends its era through its unique blend of archaeological intrigue and sci-fi wonder. This review deconstructs its legacy, arguing that beneath its derivative facade lies a rich, atmospheric, and intellectually rewarding journey—one that, despite its flaws, remains a fascinating artifact of interactive storytelling and technical ambition.

Development History & Context

Conceived in 1994 by GTE Entertainment producer Lori Nichols, Timelapse was born from a desire to improve upon the Myst formula. Nichols, driven by a lifelong fascination with archaeology, ancient cultures, and the Atlantis myth, envisioned a game that “combined puzzles, graphics, and story in a style I had never seen before” while addressing perceived shortcomings of Cyan’s masterpiece. Her team—including artist Ed Deren and programmer Tim Bank—spent six months prototyping the Egyptian world, using ray-traced pre-rendered visuals at a groundbreaking 640×480 resolution. This technical prowess was intentional; Nichols aimed to create visuals that hadn’t been seen in gaming, culminating in a game distributed across four CD-ROMs to accommodate its vast historical tableau.

The development process was deeply collaborative, incorporating feedback from focus groups critical of Myst‘s “dearth of life.” This led to innovations like a camera (for taking photos to avoid backtracking) and enhanced environmental animations. However, the project faced significant constraints. The team battled the limitations of the era’s hardware, with pre-rendered scenes requiring meticulous optimization. Released amidst a saturated market of Myst clones—titles like The 7th Guest and Zork Nemesis—Timelapse was aggressively marketed as the “true Myst-Killer.” GTE Entertainment’s shuttering in early 1997 due to corporate restructuring underscored the precariousness of its existence, though the game’s rights were later acquired by Barracuda, ensuring its survival through re-releases. Its development, a testament to 90s ingenuity, reflects a transitional period where CD-ROM technology enabled cinematic aspirations, but often at the cost of gameplay fluidity.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, Timelapse weaves a compelling narrative of archaeological discovery and extraterrestrial intervention. The plot begins with an urgent message from Professor Alexander Nichols, a brilliant archaeologist who has vanished while investigating a link between ancient civilizations and Atlantis on Easter Island. As the unnamed, silent protagonist, you arrive to find his camp abandoned and stumble upon a hidden cave containing a Timegate—an alien device enabling travel to pivotal moments in human history. This setup, reminiscent of Erich von Däniken’s Chariots of the Gods, posits that ancient monuments were constructed with extraterrestrial assistance, a theme that permeates the game’s lore.

The narrative unfolds through fragmented clues: Nichols’ journal, which doubles as a historical primer and puzzle guide, and cryptic video messages from guardians of each civilization. Characters are few but impactful: the enigmatic Professor Nichols, whose disappearance drives the quest, and the “Guardian” (an energy-based android antagonist), who manifests in each era to thwart your progress. The dialogue, though sparse, leans into the game’s pseudo-scientific tone, blending historical fact with speculative fiction. For instance, Egyptian segments reference hieroglyphic symbolism, while the Atlantean finale reveals a cosmic exodus narrative.

Thematically, Timelapse explores humanity’s quest for knowledge and the fragility of civilization. The deserted cities—populated only by wildlife and the Guardian—symbolize historical amnesia, suggesting that grand societies vanished due to cosmic oversight or alien intervention. This melancholic tone is amplified by the game’s lack of traditional interaction; as one critic noted, it’s “a Merchant-Ivory version of a computer game,” prioritizing atmosphere over character-driven drama. Yet, its ambition lies in tying puzzles to cultural authenticity: solving a Mayan calendar puzzle or an Anasazi weaving challenge rewards players with insights into ancient ingenuity, turning gameplay into an immersive history lesson. The multiple endings—ranging from escaping Atlantis in a pod to being stasis-frozen and taken to an alien homeworld—reinforce themes of consequence and choice, however simplistic.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Timelapse is a first-person point-and-click adventure that adheres closely to the Myst template but introduces refinements to streamline the experience. Navigation involves clicking directional arrows to move between static, pre-rendered scenes—a methodical pace that suits the game’s archaeological tone. Core gameplay revolves around exploration, environmental puzzle-solving, and inventory management, though the latter is minimalist, focusing on tools like the camera and journal rather than item collection.

The camera is a standout innovation, allowing players to take over 20 photos to document clues and avoid tedious backtracking—a response to Myst’s reliance on mental mapping. Puzzles, numbering over 50 according to the publisher, are the game’s centerpiece. They are meticulously tied to their historical settings:
– Egypt: Deciphering hieroglyphic numerals to align a massive stone sundial.
– Maya: Solving a rotating stone calendar puzzle based on the Mayan Long Count.
– Anasazi: Weaving a pattern on a loom to match a cliff dwelling’s petroglyphs.
– Atlantis: Navigating a zero-gravity energy maze.

These “contextual” puzzles provide intellectual satisfaction, integrating seamlessly with the world-building. However, Timelapse falters with generic, genre-standard puzzles that feel incongruous: a slider puzzle (notoriously buggy due to a flawed randomizer), a “rock-paper-scissors” challenge involving a frog, scorpion, and spider, and an awkwardly implemented bow-and-arrow minigame. As a reviewer from Just Adventure lamented, “I don’t pick up a game like Timelapse to test my aim.”

The game’s linearity is another double-edged sword. Progress is gated within each civilization until its primary puzzle is solved, creating a sense of purpose but also frustration. The journal offers hints, but its cryptic nature can obscure rather than clarify, leading to moments where players feel “stuck.” Yet, for many, the difficulty was balanced: Quandary praised its “captivating” challenges, while Online Gaming Review noted puzzles were “seldom as obtuse as the more infuriating ones in Myst.” Ultimately, Timelapse’s gameplay is a masterclass in environmental storytelling, hampered by occasional design missteps that prioritize challenge over clarity.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Timelapse’s greatest achievement is its world-building, transforming historical epochs into haunting, interactive dioramas. Each civilization is rendered with meticulous attention to detail, from the moai statues of Easter Island to the sun-drenched temples of Egypt and the intricate geometry of Mayan cities. The Anasazi segment, set in cliff dwellings adorned with pictographs, evokes a profound sense of isolation, while Atlantis—though less historically grounded—offers a vision of crystalline grandeur and alien technology. These environments are not backdrops but integral to the narrative; their emptiness underscores the game’s themes of lost knowledge and cosmic abandonment.

Artistically, Timelapse was a landmark for 1996. Pre-rendered scenes used ray-tracing to achieve photorealistic depth, with dynamic lighting and textures that set new standards for the era. Critics like Computer Games Strategy Plus lauded its “visually stunning” graphics, and even modern assessments acknowledge their enduring quality. Yet, the art is not without flaws: environmental animations (e.g., flowing water, smoke) feel dated, and full-motion video (FMV) sequences—featuring low-budget acting and grainy visuals—jarringly disrupt the immersion. As Old PC Gaming noted, the videos were “charmingly cheesy,” a product of limited resources rather than artistic intent.

Sound design elevates the experience. The soundtrack, blending tribal percussion, field recordings, and ethereal synths, is a standout. Each civilization has a unique auditory identity: Egyptian segments feature oud melodies and desert winds, while the Anasazi world incorporates flute and rainforest ambiance. This immersive soundscape, paired with subtle environmental effects (e.g., echoing footsteps, animal calls), creates a palpable sense of place. Critics universally praised this aspect; Mac Gamer called it “one of the best soundtracks of any adventure game.” The voice acting, confined to FMV, is hammy but earnest, with the Guardian’s metallic tones and Nichols’ frantic urgency adding personality to the sterile worlds. Together, art and sound transform Timelapse from a puzzle game into a time-traveling odyssey.

Reception & Legacy

Upon release, Timelapse polarized critics, earning a respectable 75% average on MobyGames based on 27 reviews. Enthusiasts praised its ambition and execution; Online Gaming Review hailed it as “a very complete game” with “beautiful, full-screen graphics,” while Just Adventure (91%) lauded its “challenging and wonderful” puzzles. It was frequently compared to Myst, often favorably: GamesFirst! wondered if it would spawn its own clones, and Quandary recommended it for those who found Myst too obtuse. However, detractors found it derivative and emotionally sterile. Entertainment Weekly dismissed it as derivative, and Power Play criticized its “Diashow” navigation and “pointless puzzles,” summing up the sentiment: “fun games like Gabriel Knight 2 and Pandora Directive are on shelves now, why bother?”

Commercially, Timelapse performed solidly, selling 250,000 units worldwide by late 2000 after GTE’s collapse. Its re-release by Barracuda in 1998 ensured continued availability, and it was localized into Japanese, German, French, and Portuguese. Digitally, it found new life on GOG.com in 2014 via Night Dive Studios, introducing it to a new generation. Its legacy is complex: it is remembered as a technically impressive Myst variant that enriched the genre with historical depth and atmospheric design, yet one hampered by its linearity and mechanical quirks. While it never dethroned Myst, it influenced subsequent games like Titanic: Adventure Out of Time (developed by many of the same team) and remains a cult favorite among adventure purists. As Adventure Classic Gaming noted, it’s “a decent adventure and a fascinating time trip to ancient civilizations” if dated by today’s standards.

Conclusion

Timelapse: Ancient Civilizations…the Link to Atlantis is a product of its time—an ambitious, flawed, and ultimately captivating artifact of the CD-ROM revolution. Its strengths lie in its breathtaking pre-rendered worlds, historically inspired puzzles, and evocative sound design, which together create an immersive journey through lost civilizations. The narrative, while thin, taps into timeless themes of curiosity and cosmic mystery, while innovations like the camera system show a developer striving to refine the Myst template. Yet, its weaknesses—generic puzzles, linear progression, and stilted FMV—prevent it from reaching the heights of its peers.

Ultimately, Timelapse deserves a place in gaming history not as a Myst killer, but as a valiant attempt to blend education with interactivity. It stands as a testament to 90s creativity, where technical limitations bred ingenuity. For modern players, it offers a nostalgic glimpse into an era when adventure games prioritized atmosphere over action, and for historians, it reflects a cultural moment where ancient astronaut theories captivated mainstream imagination. Despite its flaws, Timelapse remains a compelling journey—a time capsule that, like its own Timegate, transports players to a bygone era of gaming. As a puzzle adventure, it is flawed; as an experience, it is unforgettable.