Flirting with a Colossal Policeman to Beat the Allegations

I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. It’s really important you believe me. But here I am in the grip of a 50-foot policeman, and he’s not buying what I’m selling. Not about what I didn’t do – because I’m sure I didn’t do it, though I’m not sure what exactly I’m accused of – but about anything, including why I’m up so early. I offer some excuse about having a job. Do I have a job? I don’t know. You get nervous when a cop bigger than a house is holding you to eye level. It seemed like the right thing to say. The good news: I’m free to move about town. The bad news: I can’t leave. I’m innocent and they’re not gonna believe me. I have to get out of here.

I’ve never played a game quite like Militsioner before. It’s unnerving, moving around a town when you’re always being watched by a giant who could squash you as easily as look at you. So when my friend – who is really a very large arm hanging out of a window; why is everyone else in this town bigger than me? – tells me they’re a lawyer and the best thing for me to do is get out of town and wouldn’t you know it, they’ve got a train ticket and they’re willing to give it to me, well… Isn’t that convenient?

Turns out it was a ploy to trap me in a house so they could eat me later, but if they wanted that to work they really shouldn’t have left all these bricks lying around. One smashed door later, my pockets loaded down with bricks, a fake train ticket (I appreciate the amount of work my “friend” put into this, you know? They really got into it), and some stolen cash later, I’m out on the street trying to figure out how to get out of town.

What I like most about Militsioner is how much freedom I have to do whatever I want. I can talk to the Colossal Policeman (that’s his government name, according to Militsioner Steam page) if I want. He’s hungry and sad. Wants a donut, because of course he does. He’s a cop. I give him an apple I found on the ground. It helps with the depression, but he still wants a donut.

Say I don’t want to get him a donut, though. I mean, I do. I just don’t know where to find one, so I mosey along and get into an argument with the person selling train tickets, who thinks I’m a murderer and won’t be convinced otherwise. They’re going to call the police – really, they could probably just yell; I mean, have they seen how big this guy is? – when I decide to skedaddle.

Not to be deterred, I decide to break into the train station, which goes really well right until our giant cop notices and threatens to get involved if I don’t vamoose. Okay, I admit doing it in broad daylight was a little ambitious of me, but what else was I supposed to do? Try to track down the weird hand that I keep seeing pop out of sewer grates?

But that’s the point. I can do whatever I want, deal with this however I want. I can try to convince the train counter person that I’m a good guy and friends with the cop. That doesn’t work, but only because I don’t know the answer to the question they ask to test me. I can wander into a pawn shop and sell just enough stuff to finally afford a vending machine donut, which I bring back to the cop. He’s a little confused, but grateful, and our relationship changes. I imagine he only gets more confused once I try to flirt with him. Listen, I really need to get out of town. Maybe he won’t arrest me if he likes me.

At one point, he mentions wanting to listen to music, so I find a guitar and bring it to him, intending to either offer it as a gift or try to play for him myself and cheer him up. Neither works, so we’re just there, me holding a guitar neither of us can use on the shore, him sitting in the water just outside of town. No wonder he’s depressed. I take the guitar back to the pawn shop and sell it.

Finally, with my demo time running low, I decide to use one of the benches around town to advance time and break into the train station again, this time at night. Maybe he won’t catch me if he can’t see me. I don’t have a ticket or a plan for actually getting on the train. But I didn’t plan to give a cop who was bigger than a house a donut, either.

When I awaken from my bench nap, the town is flooded. The water’s up to my chest and it’s rising quickly. I use a brick to break down a locked door, and search for higher ground. But the water keeps rising. Eventually, there’s nowhere left to go.

After I die, I see a menu allowing me to spend points I’d unknowingly acquired by doing things to improve the policeman’s mood. And then I realize I’m playing a roguelike. Clever.

The time for my demo is up, but all I can think of is what I’d do differently next time. Faster to the pawn shop and the donut, maybe. Hit the other parts of the map I hadn’t seen. If I played it right, I might be able to convince the person at the train station that I knew the Colossal Policeman or figure out what was going on with the hand in the sewers. The town didn’t seem big, but I realized I didn’t know it well, either. It was a stranger to me. If I wanted to leave, I’d have to learn its secrets.

And what about me? Was I guilty? Why was there a gigantic policeman monitoring this town, anyway? Why had it flooded? If anything, I felt like I had more questions about Militsioner after playing it than I did going in. But maybe one more run would answer some of them. At the very least, I knew where to get a donut.

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Will Borger is an IGN freelancer. You can find him on Bluesky @edgarallanbro.