Taking on Day of the Tentacle without a walkthrough

This article was originally published in PC Gamer issue 292. For more quality articles about all things PC gaming, you can subscribe now in the UK and the US.

I never played Day of the Tentacle, despite its reputation as one of the best adventure games ever made. With the remastered edition now available, Andy has challenged me to finish it without a walkthrough. It s my chance to experience the game as it was meant to be played without the safety net of the internet. In the spirit of the era, I can use Andy as my very own LucasArts helpline. Be warned, there are puzzle and plot spoilers throughout this article.

I m not too bad at modern adventure games I completed the Blackwell series without a walkthrough but I m less adept at the older ones. Monkey Island 2 had me utterly stumped. Judging by Day of the Tentacle s opening cutscene, I m worried this will be more of the same. It appears to take place in a slapstick cartoon, where logic has upped sticks and bought a quaint country cottage in a heartland of zany adventure. I m in trouble.

We open to the lobby of Doctor Fred s combined hotel, laboratory and psych ward. I recognise my first puzzle: a coin on the floor that s stuck to some gum. I go to pick it up, but it won t budge. No doubt this is part of some long, elaborate puzzle chain. If I was a standup comedian, here is where I d go on a long routine imagining common tasks through the lens of adventure game logic. Perhaps a skit about acquiring milk by using leather cushions to trick a cow into letting me near her udders.

No time for that, though, as I trigger a cutscene by climbing into a grandfather clock. Soon, a time travel mishap occurs. The three playable characters now exist in three different time zones. Equable roadie Hoagie is in the past, and skittish student Laverne finds herself in a future ruled by tentacle monsters. Both must get power to their Chron-o-Johns. Back (or forward) in the present, bookish Bernard must buy an expensive diamond to bring his pals home.

I quickly make what seems like progress by picking up every item I can find. Pretty soon Hoagie and Bernard s pockets are bulging. Not Laverne s though, because she s stuck up a tree. Also, I ve talked to the founding fathers of the United States. They seem nice.

Climbing into a grandfather clock in the past as Hoagie, I find Fred s ancestor, Red Edison. He s going to help me build a super-battery, but only if I provide him with three things: oil, vinegar and gold. I suspect these aren t the ingredients for a battery, but then Fight Club lied about the recipe for homemade napalm, and the most cartoonish thing about that was Jared Leto s hair. Thanks to my earlier hoarding, I already have the oil.

Next: vinegar. I don t find any, but I do have a bottle of wine. As any sommelier will tell you, wine plus time equals rhyme. And also vinegar. I m about to drop the wine bottle into the Chron-o-John which lets me transport inanimate objects between time periods when I realise a conceptual flaw in my plan. If I send the wine forward in time, it will still be wine. I need to hide the wine in the past, and have one of the other characters retrieve it and send it back. I am a clever boy.

Admittedly not that clever, as it takes me a while to realise I need to put the wine in Thomas Jefferson s time capsule. In the meantime, I cajole George Washington into cutting down a kumquat tree by painting its fruit the colour of cherries. This frees Laverne. I d gloat, but it was accidental. I recognised the basic template of an adventure puzzle, and attempted to solve it regardless of reason. I also add an amendment to the Constitution requiring vacuum cleaners in every basement. I assume this will, at some point, be of use.

Freed from the tree, Laverne is locked up by tentacles. Releasing her proves surprisingly easy. Feigning sickness, I steal a chart of tentacle anatomy and send it back to Hoagie. He hands it to a seamstress who assumes it s the template for a new American flag. In the future, Laverne is able retrieve the flag and wear it as a disguise. Did I say it was easy? I meant stupid. Free to wander the future mansion, I find the time capsule. Laverne can t open it with her bare hands, though. Didn t I see a crowbar back in Bernard s time?

I did! The crowbar lets me pick up the coin from the lobby, and also steal a stack of quarters from a candy machine. What I can t do is send it into the future to help Laverne. Instead, I do more things that don t make sense. I use the dime to shake a fat man off a sweater. (Why?) I put the sweater in a tumble dryer and use my stack of quarters to send it spinning into Laverne s time. (Er?) Later, I tell Bernard to steal a hamster. (What?) I put the hamster in an ice box. (Oh, come on!) In the future, Laverne retrieves the frozen rodent and puts it in the microwave. (Seriously?) I place the thoroughly damp hamster in the dryer-shrunken sweater to warm him up. (WTF, adventure games.)

Doing things for no reason works for a while, but pretty soon I m stuck. It s time to turn to my only hope: Andy Kelly, who is standing in for the LucasArts tips line. For a while, I d harboured dreams of completing the game without ever calling him especially as he ll be billing me for every hint I receive. Alas, I m at a loss. I email Andy and ask how to send the crowbar to the future.

Thanks for calling the LucasArts hint line. Calls to this 1-900 number are charged at $3 for the first minute, and $1 for every additional minute. Your hint is as follows: there are other ways to open a time capsule. The charge for this call is $4.

What a rip off! That is no help at all. I ve already been through the rest of my inventory, and there s no other item that could realistically open a... oh, it s the can opener, isn t it? That would be the most nonsensical solution, and so it s clearly the correct one. I send Laverne the can opener that Hoagie is inexplicably carrying and, yes, it works. Vinegar acquired. Just the gold to go.

Elsewhere, I m starting to understand what I must do in the other time periods. For Laverne, I need to lure away the tentacle guarding the grandfather clock that leads to the basement. To do that, I ll need to free the prisoners by offering their warden the free dinner that can be won from the tentacle s Crufts-like human beauty contest. Problem: I don t know where to get a human.

In Bernard s time, I engineer a situation that results in Fred sleepwalking to his safe. But every time I go to grab the contract secured inside, he sleepslams the door shut. What a sleepjerk.

Back in Hoagie s time, I can t find the gold. It s probably the pen by the draft Constitution, but I can t tell if the horse s dentures are gold or grubby yellow. Oh, right, yes: there s a talking horse. I can t wait to discover what logical, grounded and not at all contrived puzzle he s involved in.

I attempt to get some value for money by tricking Andy into revealing more than he should. How do I get the gold? I ask. And, if it has anything to do with starting a rainstorm, how do I get the soap? The latter has to do with a puzzle thread I don t really understand, but I m convinced will make me angry once it s played out. I m not even sure it s relevant to my current situation. Mostly, I m just frustrated that there s an inventory item I can t pick up. Every time I try, the cleaner scolds me and walks off with it.

My hope is that by my questioning a link between the two puzzles, Andy will be a bit broader in his hints. It doesn t work. You need to keep the maid busy long enough to grab the soap. As for the gold, the pen is mightier than the sword. $6.

What a swindle! $6 for information I (mostly) knew! I d already figured I d need to keep the maid busy, I just don t know how. The only interactive element in Washington s room is the bed, and I can t seem to use any item on it. In desperation, I try using the bed by itself. It works. Hoagie nudges against it, messing up the blankets. I call the maid and grab the soap.

As for the other hint, I suppose it at least confirms that it s the pen I m after. Also, now I have the soap I can clean the cart to trigger a rainstorm. Let s not stop to consider how idiotic that last sentence is, and instead stop to wonder why I need to trigger a rainstorm. I have no clue. I do it anyway, and, as a result, Benjamin Franklin returns to the hotel. I guess that s progress.

Using a letter from the past, Bernard gains access to a flag gun which I swap with a cigar lighter so as to pilfer an exploding cigar without blowing my face off. Perhaps, at times over the last two decades, you ve wondered why adventure games died out. I d argue that the answer lies within this paragraph. If you re au fait with the genre, you should be able to puzzle out the answer. No? Here s another clue: I then gave the exploding cigar to George Washington to blow out his false teeth.

Here I realise that I can use the chattering joke teeth from Bernard s time. If I can give them to Washington, people will assume he s cold and light the fire. I m not sure how this will help, but I figure any puzzle to do with the founding fathers will get me the gold pen.

The trouble is I can t get the chattering teeth. They bounce away whenever Bernard gets near them. Once again, I try everything in my inventory to no avail. Fine, Andy, you win again.

Catching the chattering teeth? That would be grate. $3.

As a games journalist, Andy s idea of a cryptic clue involves puns. Still, I had previously tried to pry open the grate. Unless, that is, I can just open it. I tell Bernard to open it, and, of course, it opens. Stupid verb wall.

I give Washington the chattering teeth and, lo and behold, a fire is lit. This gives me an idea. I go to the roof and place John Hancock s blanket over the chimney, filling the downstairs room with smoke. The founding fathers evacuate, and I pinch their pen. Sorry America, no Constitution for you.

I hand the pen to Red, who makes me a battery. It s uncharged, which finally explains the point of Benjamin Franklin. Besides the founding of a nation stuff, I suppose.

It s time for some more sentences I d never imagined writing. I have found an entrant for the tentacles human show. It s Ted, the mummified corpse that exists in all three time zones. Progress is smooth, at first. I plop some wet noodles on his head, and use a fork to style them into a meatball laden hairdo. I also get my strongest competitor disqualified with some fake barf that, earlier, I d rescued from a ceiling.

Hair is only one of the categories by which a human (or mummy) is judged. The other two are smile and laugh. Once again, I am stuck.

You can t use the chattering teeth, but there s another set somewhere around in Hoagie s timeline. I had to look that up myself, so that ll be $6.

The horse! I knew it! The problem is, I ve already tried to get the horse s dentures, and failed over and over again. And so, like some desperate puzzle addict jonesing for just one more hint, I go crawling back to Andy.

There s a glass next to the horse. When do people put their dentures in a glass? $3.

This makes me so frustrated that I involuntarily stand up in exasperation. That s when I remember that I work in an openplan office. I grab the mug from my desk and walk off to make some coffee, thus creating a cover story for my sudden vertical outburst. The reason I m annoyed is that, in previously attempting to learn the purpose of Bernard s book, I d used it on just about every character. Each one had said that it made them feel sleepy. I d come so close, but, for whatever reason, I hadn t considered using it on the horse. Back at my desk, coffee in hand, I easily acquire the dentures. Great, my mummy has the best smile.

I still can t work out how to do almost anything else. My progress has halted in each time zone. In the past, I need to persuade Red to give me his lab coat so I can hand it to Benny Franklin. In the present, I need to persuade Nurse Edna to let me access the security room s VCR. In the future, I need to persuade a panel of tentacle judges that my mummy has the best laugh. Instead of the usual back-and-forth, I send Andy a bumper list of requests.

An employee? Seems Red Edison wants help. Edna s a real pushover. Clowns often make people laugh. $9.

That was expensive, but worth it. In the present, I use the scalpel on the fake clown, take out his chuckling voice box and send it to Laverne. All items in place, she wins the competition. Also in the present, I notice the Help Wanted sign. I pick it up and send it to Hoagie. Red assumes he made the sign and gives Hoagie the lab coat. I deliver it to Franklin, who makes it into a kite. I attach the battery to said kite and hurl it into a lightning strike. Grabbing the now charged battery, I plug it into the Chron-o-John. I have completed the past!

As for Bernard, I wonder if it could really be so simple? I tell him to push Edna. He gives her chair a kick, sending her flying out of the room. Once again, I m a bit annoyed. Bernard is so mild that he refused to use a scalpel to cut gum off a floor. Now he s kicking lecherous old women? It s completely out of character. Yes, that s right, I m choosing to blame the game s inconsistent logic rather than my inability to use a verb wall.

I record Fred entering his safe code, and then watch as the IRS arrests him. I grab a contract out of the safe, and through a complicated series of events involving an ink-stained stamp collection, a painted mummy and some light dialogue puzzling post it in the past. As a result, Bernard has access to enough money to buy the diamond he s needed all this time. I stuff it into the time machine and complete the present day.

Just the future to untangle now, and doing so involves a puzzle so infuriatingly nonsensical that this remastered edition has an achievement that makes fun of it. Having given the prison warden my dinner coupon, I must now cajole the prisoners into staging an escape. Naturally, I have to consult Andy. He points me in the direction of the cat specifically to the fence it s scratching itself on and charges me another $3. Eventually, I realise I must use the correction fluid on the fence, which, as the cat returns for another scratch, leaves a white stripe along its back. Tempting the cat with a mouse, I grab him and take him to the cell. The prisoners naturally think he s a skunk, and make a run for it.

Look, I m just going to say it: I m glad adventure games died off. Fans used to lament the fact that mindless action had replaced their more cerebral pleasures. But Quake never asked me to paint a cat by proxy. That s not cerebral, just annoying puzzle design. The Longest Journey, an adventure game, has you use breadcrumbs to tempt a seagull into attacking a rubber duck so that you can retrieve a clothesline. Gabriel Knight 3, an adventure game, has you style a moustache out of syrup and cat hair in order to disguise yourself as a man who doesn t have a moustache. Adventure games deserved to die.

With the tentacle guarding the grandfather clock lured away, Laverne can now access the basement. I go to put the hamster on the treadmill of Fred s old generator in order to power the Chron-o-John. As I do, a boxing glove attached to an extending arm shoots out of the wall and punches Laverne in the face. This, I feel, is the perfect visual metaphor for my time playing this game.

The hamster scurries into a mouse hole, but I d already amended the Constitution to mandate vacuum cleaners in every basement. I did this for no conceivable reason. Retrieving the hamster, I put him on his wheel and plug in the Chron-o-John.

All time periods are complete, and the three characters reunite for an epilogue. It is mercifully simple, requiring only that I hurl a bowling ball at some tentacles and talk another into firing his shrink ray at Fred s head mirror.

It s done. I have completed Day of the Tentacle without a walkthrough. I owe Andy $34. More than that, though, I now hate adventure games. It s something of a pyrrhic victory.