Damn them Clouds!

You take a deep breath of salty air as the first raindrops
begin to spatter the pavement, and the swollen,
slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky mutter ominous
portents amongst themselves over the little coastal town
of Anchorhead.

Today I decided to step into a world of terror like no other: text-based adventure games / interactive fiction. After consulting PC Gamer's 365 days of free games, I reached the section on interactive fiction, at the end of page 6. Anyway, I told myself I shouldn't be picky so I chose the first one on the list, that is Ancorhead. The description was both ominous and exciting:
Lovecraftian Gothic horror, subtle and spooky. Be brave and enjoy one of the most atmospheric games ever.
So, I started playing. Then, as soon as the game started, I remembered how much descriptions bore me. The game was filled with descriptions of houses and streets and clouds. I'm not sure if there's some relation to the central plot, but in every piece of text that was presented to me, there was mention of the clouds.

I wonder. Is it just me or do these descriptions bore more people? I'm not sure if what I'm doing and thinking is right or wrong, but this is exactly what I feel. And what I feel, for all its lack of substantiality, is a sense of boredom when I need to read about the ominous clouds and the rain, especially when I have read about them ten times already.

So, I'm supposed to meet with a real estate agent in this game. I go to the place and I'm left with no instructions. Thankfully, my spider senses inform me that by saying "north" you go north and so on. Shouldn't there be some kind of instructions for people who haven't played games like this before? Anyway, the text is so full of north's and east's and southwest's that it's not really hard to get it.

So, I move towards his house and then knock on the door. After a few failed attempts at managing to word the knocking correctly (writing only "knock" results on you knocking on the sky by default, apparently). Naturally, nobody's there, so I start roaming the town. Using my trusty "north", "south", "northwest" commands I move from one eerie description to the next, totally oblivious to what else I could be doing. At some point there was a window. I tried to look through it but it was too high. I tried to climb but I couldn't. Then, there was some sort of obelisk in the town square. By some divine enlightenment I "examine monument"'d but there didn't seem anything I could do with it. Then, I got lost in some windy little streets. At first, I thought that some kind of strange thing was going on, but after a few tries I took the correct direction and got out. Finally, I went to the local pub. I talked and the subject was Michael's family, by default. Some old man told me that these things are better left undiscussed by decent folk. Then, I tried to ask them about the real estate agent but they ignored me.

A hoary monument of crumbling, moss-eaten flagstones,
Whateley Bridge is possibly older than any other
structure in the entire city. Ponderously it spans the
dark, torpid waters of the Miskaton River, connecting
the north and south halves of the city and occasionally
raining bits of gravel and mortar from its underside
into the water. It looks just wide enough for two cars
to pass each other between the flanking stone parapets,
but you wouldn't volunteer to try it.                   

Well, I don't want to come off as ignorant or biased, but I spent an hour playing this game and didn't get an inch closer to finding this real estate agent or anything. All I learned was a) Michael's family is a taboo topic, b) there is a strange monument in town that will mean something later in the story, c) the clouds are ominous. This was both embarassing and frustrating. Perhaps I'm lacking in reading comprehension or am just slow but I don't think any game should treat anyone in such a punishing way. So, I stopped.

A dank, drafty old drinking hole lit by flickering,
oil-burning lanterns. Smoke collects in greasy pools
among the rafters, and shadows crowd thick around. The
bar runs the length of the room to your right, while to
the south a low doorway opens onto the street.     
                                                 
Mill workers and fishermen occupy a few of the tables,
drinking beer or puffing grimly at long-stemmed pipes.
Each is wrapped in his solitude, soaking up the general
miasma of dreary fatalism.                           
                                                 
The lantern sitting on the table nearest you sputters
fitfully, throwing distorted shadows across the wall.
                                                 
>talk about real estate agent                       
No one answers you, or even looks your way.         
                                                 
>FUCK YOU ALL                                       
No need to get frustrated.                             

This is not the end, however. This type of game has me intrigued and even though my first attempt failed miserably, I won't give up so easily.