This is a classic example of how games were created with a nod towards size being the major selling point rather than quality in the commercial heyday of the text adventure. Twenty-seven locations are excitingly described as "You are on a large open plain" and there are many other examples of repetitive areas of drab geography purely there to bulk up the game's mass. There are also puzzles that cannot be solved here; you could bash your head against them for all eternity because there is no solution. To this heady mix you can add logic loopholes; a certain object become ruined if you enter an underwater region from the east side. However, entering the same body of water from the west side and visiting the self same locations doesn't affect it. The rowing boat has no interactable features; however, if you take it into the same area of water "the oars float away." Which oars? The game doesn't understand the word and they are never even visible. For no reason a key falls in to the lake from the boat whilst rowing it.

And so on and so on, far into the night. Epic in terms of size yes; much like some of David Lean's filmography the mantra "never mind the quality feel the width" seems to be the main driver here.

You could say Kingdom of Klein means Small Kingdom. If only.

Dead right fuzzel. Around eighty locations should have been jettisoned here as they bring nothing to the table. At least by the time of The Lost Crystal, Melvyn Wright had included the "continue" verb to automatically transport you to the end of long stretches of monochrome landscape.

Dead right fuzzel. Around eighty locations should have been jettisoned here as they bring nothing to the table. At least by the time of The Lost Crystal, Melvyn Wright had included the "continue" verb to automatically transport you to the end of long stretches of monochrome landscape.