October 1996: The Best Selling CD-ROM Game of All Time...Is Not Inside This Column
by Diamond Feit
I take comedy very seriously, by which I mean I hold it in higher esteem than other genres. I'm always willing to take a chance on tearjerkers, thrillers, or tender romances, but if a book, film, or video game gets a laugh out of me, I'm as impressed as I am amused.
Within the broad realm of comedy lies parody, a most demanding form of gut-busting. I liken it to surgery given the amount of precision required. Anyone can write or tell jokes but to dissect another person's creation, turn it on its head, and highlight its inner workings demands nerves of steel.
Lots of video games try their hand at comedy, typically in the form of silly sounds or absurdism. Would the world love Mario as much if he didn't flail his arms and grimace each and every time he died? Would sliding down the flagpole still satisfy without that signature \"beeeeooooo\" as he descends? Levity lines the heart of his many adventures, even if the games are light on actual gags.
We seldom see parody video games for a myriad of overlapping reasons, first and foremost being comedy in gaming is already incredibly difficult. Unless you wrench control from the player, they risk looking the wrong way and missing a punchline. Comedy is also notoriously context-sensitive, making it difficult to translate for international audiences. American kids barely understood that the Tanooki Suit took its name from a real animal; the transformative properties of leaves and the ability to turn into a statue flew well over our heads.
Decades of developer interviews have also shown us that people who work for one company tend to tread carefully when discussing another company's products. Creating an explicit homage to someone else's game\u2014regardless of the potential for humor\u2014might generate bad blood or result in legal action. Even Weird Al Yankovic, the gold standard of good-natured mockery, has occasionally encountered artists unhappy with his time-tested comedy chops.
30 years ago this month, a direct jab at one of the biggest games in the world emerged onto retail shelves. With a similar title, similar cover art, plus the grinning visage of a Hollywood actor, Pyst fully committed to take the piss out of Myst.
Pyst broadcasts its intentions front and center on its packaging, as the entire box screams \"remember Myst?\" to potential customers. Both games print their title in large block letters above an image of an island, though in Pyst's case the text and the landscape are in poor condition. A banner atop the box calls Pyst \"an interactive CD-ROM and online comedy.\" Stickers dot the cover to hammer home the point that this is \"not the real game\" to head off any confusion at the register.
It's a sound strategy given Myst's extraordinary success at the time; anyone with a CD-ROM compatible device likely owned a copy or had seen one at a friend's house. Console ports of Myst began shipping in 1995 with a PlayStation version arriving more or less as Pyst hit the market. Whether you'd already cleared Myst or only knew it by reputation, anyone shopping for computer games in 1996 would immediately recognize it on sight.
Myst's worldwide popularity fuels Pyst's narrative, as the latter supposes what would happen to a remote island suddenly overrun by millions of visitors. Myst players know the game as a solitary experience, so the notion of sharing that space and navigating its puzzles while rubbing elbows with crowds of people feels wrong.
Thus Pyst's island is in total disarray: Litter lies strewn across every surface, rats and seagulls gorge themselves on food scraps (or each other), and nothing works anymore. The situation has become so dire that the Octoplex Corporation plans to take over the island and redevelop it accordingly, replacing its famous landmarks with a jetski marina, casino, and miniature golf course.
Pyst reframes the island that Myst made famous as a post-liminal space, one that used to carry an air of mystery and transition but now exists in total squalor. Pyst players don't see the teeming masses that tore this oasis asunder, they see the aftermath and hear about it from audio recordings. In a way, Pyst predicts the early-00s proliferation of big-budget gaming storytelling through diegetic messages left behind.
I've done my diligence and given Pyst the benefit of every doubt in highlighting its attempts at satire, but now it's time for the bad news: Pyst might be the worst video game I've ever played. Even calling it a video game feels wrong, as it barely qualifies as interactive by any standards.
The Pyst experience begins\u2014just like Myst\u2014at a dock facing a hill. In Myst, you can look to the left and investigate an underground chamber, go straight and examine a pedestal, or ignore both of these and explore the island. Pyst lets you click around the screen to activate visual gags like malfunctioning Christmas lights, a pipe spewing sludge into the ocean, or a seagull taking a dump.
No amount of searching will unlock any secrets or move your character, as Pyst's island only exists as a series of postcards. You can click on a speaker at the bottom to hear what Bob and Cindy from Octoplex have to say, you can flip the postcard over to read missives from tourists, or you can click the edge to bring up the next card. This is the entirety of Pyst's interactive features: No puzzles, no agency, just buttons visible and invisible.
The closest Pyst comes to actually engaging with Myst on a level playing field are the video clips in The Crash Pad, their take on Myst's imaging chamber. Clicking on the large device brings up full-motion video testimonials from King Mattruss, Prince Syrrup, and The Prince Formerly Known as Prince. These character names alone tell you more than enough about Pyst's witticisms; you don't need me to tell you that they say nothing of note.
What really pisses me off about Pyst is that Myst handed them the blueprints to make a genuine parody version. Anyone who's played or simply seen Myst in action can tell you it's already a slideshow. You can't \"move\" in Myst, you move the mouse and select a direction which loads the next pre-rendered background. A jokey interpretation of that sounds fun whether it contains puzzles or not.
I spent many hours in Babbage's and Software Etc in the 90s so I have vivid memories of seeing Pyst and dismissing it. Contemporary critics agree with me, finding little to laugh at or recommend. Writing for The Independent, Andy Oldfield described Pyst as \"fourth-form sub-Airplane humour.\" Shawn Douglas Shipper rated Pyst 2.5 out of 10 on The Electric Playground while noting that its best joke is written on the front of the box. A generous MacGamer review gave Pyst a 40% but that includes 100% scores for Stability and Hardware Demands; under Cons, it says \"No gameplay.\"
With its developer and publisher long since defunct, I had zero qualms downloading a copy of Pyst in 2026. Having now played it, I somehow have even fewer qualms because god forbid anyone pay money for this\u2014purportedly $14.95 at launch, over $30 today adjusted for inflation. If you remain curious about Pyst at this point I encourage you to punch up a longplay on YouTube to save yourself the trouble of installing 30-year-old software. Did I mention a complete walkthrough of Pyst takes less than an hour? I couldn't believe how quickly I reached the credits.
I take no joy in reporting how poorly Pyst represents its stars, its writers, and the noble art of comedy. Fortunately, the modern gaming world is rife with quality examples of parodies, none of whom take their cues from Pyst as far as I can tell. The Looker mocks The Witness with puzzles aplenty and highbrow audio recordings, all for the low-low cost of free. Never Stop Sneakin' simplifies the Metal Gear Solid formula into a fast-paced sneaking mission but doesn't skimp on the outrageous characters or epic boss battles.
Of course, the absolute king of the modern parody game is Quantic Dreams under the direction of David Cage. With immaculate graphics that always feel uncanny, characters that make no sense, and a reliance on quick-time events that only gets more shallow with each repeated cycle, his work expertly exposes the underbelly of our current AAA boondoggle-laden medium. It's been eight years since he released his purely satirical Detroit: Become Human and I cannot wait for\u2026sorry, I'm being handed a slip of paper and\u2014
\u2014David Cage is sincere??
Writer/podcaster/performer Diamond Feit has written professionally since 2009 and contributed to Retronauts since 2018. Look up feitclub on social media or visit Diamond's lofi website.
", "contentSnippet": "October 1996: The Best Selling CD-ROM Game of All Time...Is Not Inside This Column\nby Diamond Feit\nI take comedy very seriously, by which I mean I hold it in higher esteem than other genres. I'm always willing to take a chance on tearjerkers, thrillers, or tender romances, but if a book, film, or video game gets a laugh out of me, I'm as impressed as I am amused.\nWithin the broad realm of comedy lies parody, a most demanding form of gut-busting. I liken it to surgery given the amount of precision required. Anyone can write or tell jokes but to dissect another person's creation, turn it on its head, and highlight its inner workings demands nerves of steel.\nLots of video games try their hand at comedy, typically in the form of silly sounds or absurdism. Would the world love Mario as much if he didn't flail his arms and grimace each and every time he died? Would sliding down the flagpole still satisfy without that signature \"beeeeooooo\" as he descends? Levity lines the heart of his many adventures, even if the games are light on actual gags.\nWe seldom see parody video games for a myriad of overlapping reasons, first and foremost being comedy in gaming is already incredibly difficult. Unless you wrench control from the player, they risk looking the wrong way and missing a punchline. Comedy is also notoriously context-sensitive, making it difficult to translate for international audiences. American kids barely understood that the Tanooki Suit took its name from a real animal; the transformative properties of leaves and the ability to turn into a statue flew well over our heads.\nDecades of developer interviews have also shown us that people who work for one company tend to tread carefully when discussing another company's products. Creating an explicit homage to someone else's game\u2014regardless of the potential for humor\u2014might generate bad blood or result in legal action. Even Weird Al Yankovic, the gold standard of good-natured mockery, has occasionally encountered artists unhappy with his time-tested comedy chops.\n30 years ago this month, a direct jab at one of the biggest games in the world emerged onto retail shelves. With a similar title, similar cover art, plus the grinning visage of a Hollywood actor, Pyst fully committed to take the piss out of Myst.\nPyst broadcasts its intentions front and center on its packaging, as the entire box screams \"remember Myst?\" to potential customers. Both games print their title in large block letters above an image of an island, though in Pyst's case the text and the landscape are in poor condition. A banner atop the box calls Pyst \"an interactive CD-ROM and online comedy.\" Stickers dot the cover to hammer home the point that this is \"not the real game\" to head off any confusion at the register.\nIt's a sound strategy given Myst's extraordinary success at the time; anyone with a CD-ROM compatible device likely owned a copy or had seen one at a friend's house. Console ports of Myst began shipping in 1995 with a PlayStation version arriving more or less as Pyst hit the market. Whether you'd already cleared Myst or only knew it by reputation, anyone shopping for computer games in 1996 would immediately recognize it on sight.\nMyst's worldwide popularity fuels Pyst's narrative, as the latter supposes what would happen to a remote island suddenly overrun by millions of visitors. Myst players know the game as a solitary experience, so the notion of sharing that space and navigating its puzzles while rubbing elbows with crowds of people feels wrong.\nThus Pyst's island is in total disarray: Litter lies strewn across every surface, rats and seagulls gorge themselves on food scraps (or each other), and nothing works anymore. The situation has become so dire that the Octoplex Corporation plans to take over the island and redevelop it accordingly, replacing its famous landmarks with a jetski marina, casino, and miniature golf course.\nPyst reframes the island that Myst made famous as a post-liminal space, one that used to carry an air of mystery and transition but now exists in total squalor. Pyst players don't see the teeming masses that tore this oasis asunder, they see the aftermath and hear about it from audio recordings. In a way, Pyst predicts the early-00s proliferation of big-budget gaming storytelling through diegetic messages left behind.\nI've done my diligence and given Pyst the benefit of every doubt in highlighting its attempts at satire, but now it's time for the bad news: Pyst might be the worst video game I've ever played. Even calling it a video game feels wrong, as it barely qualifies as interactive by any standards.\nThe Pyst experience begins\u2014just like Myst\u2014at a dock facing a hill. In Myst, you can look to the left and investigate an underground chamber, go straight and examine a pedestal, or ignore both of these and explore the island. Pyst lets you click around the screen to activate visual gags like malfunctioning Christmas lights, a pipe spewing sludge into the ocean, or a seagull taking a dump.\nNo amount of searching will unlock any secrets or move your character, as Pyst's island only exists as a series of postcards. You can click on a speaker at the bottom to hear what Bob and Cindy from Octoplex have to say, you can flip the postcard over to read missives from tourists, or you can click the edge to bring up the next card. This is the entirety of Pyst's interactive features: No puzzles, no agency, just buttons visible and invisible.\nThe closest Pyst comes to actually engaging with Myst on a level playing field are the video clips in The Crash Pad, their take on Myst's imaging chamber. Clicking on the large device brings up full-motion video testimonials from King Mattruss, Prince Syrrup, and The Prince Formerly Known as Prince. These character names alone tell you more than enough about Pyst's witticisms; you don't need me to tell you that they say nothing of note.\nWhat really pisses me off about Pyst is that Myst handed them the blueprints to make a genuine parody version. Anyone who's played or simply seen Myst in action can tell you it's already a slideshow. You can't \"move\" in Myst, you move the mouse and select a direction which loads the next pre-rendered background. A jokey interpretation of that sounds fun whether it contains puzzles or not.\nI spent many hours in Babbage's and Software Etc in the 90s so I have vivid memories of seeing Pyst and dismissing it. Contemporary critics agree with me, finding little to laugh at or recommend. Writing for The Independent, Andy Oldfield described Pyst as \"fourth-form sub-Airplane humour.\" Shawn Douglas Shipper rated Pyst 2.5 out of 10 on The Electric Playground while noting that its best joke is written on the front of the box. A generous MacGamer review gave Pyst a 40% but that includes 100% scores for Stability and Hardware Demands; under Cons, it says \"No gameplay.\"\nWith its developer and publisher long since defunct, I had zero qualms downloading a copy of Pyst in 2026. Having now played it, I somehow have even fewer qualms because god forbid anyone pay money for this\u2014purportedly $14.95 at launch, over $30 today adjusted for inflation. If you remain curious about Pyst at this point I encourage you to punch up a longplay on YouTube to save yourself the trouble of installing 30-year-old software. Did I mention a complete walkthrough of Pyst takes less than an hour? I couldn't believe how quickly I reached the credits.\nI take no joy in reporting how poorly Pyst represents its stars, its writers, and the noble art of comedy. Fortunately, the modern gaming world is rife with quality examples of parodies, none of whom take their cues from Pyst as far as I can tell. The Looker mocks The Witness with puzzles aplenty and highbrow audio recordings, all for the low-low cost of free. Never Stop Sneakin' simplifies the Metal Gear Solid formula into a fast-paced sneaking mission but doesn't skimp on the outrageous characters or epic boss battles.\nOf course, the absolute king of the modern parody game is Quantic Dreams under the direction of David Cage. With immaculate graphics that always feel uncanny, characters that make no sense, and a reliance on quick-time events that only gets more shallow with each repeated cycle, his work expertly exposes the underbelly of our current AAA boondoggle-laden medium. It's been eight years since he released his purely satirical Detroit: Become Human and I cannot wait for\u2026sorry, I'm being handed a slip of paper and\u2014\n\u2014David Cage is sincere??\nWriter/podcaster/performer Diamond Feit has written professionally since 2009 and contributed to Retronauts since 2018. 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