Otters seem to have had a rough ride of it when it comes to prominent depictions in literature. The two most famous books written on the subject of otters are unquestionably Tarka The Otter by Henry Williamson and Ring of Bright Water by Gavin Maxwell, and if you've read either (or watched their movie adaptations), you'll know that the lives of Tarka (fictional) and Mijbil (real) ended on distinctively tragic notes. Lesser remembered but no less harrowing was Colin Dann's prequel to his Animals of Farthing Wood series, Farthing Wood: The Adventure Begins, or as it should have been titled, Farthing Wood: The Lutrine Genocide, which was all about Fox's ancestors declaring war on the wood's otter population and violently offing them one by one. The surviving otters were forced into exile and continued to die in various gruesome accidents. That was pretty much the plot in full. It's no mystery as to why that specific title was not covered as part of the mid-90s animated adaptation - even by the series' standards, it was a bleak, bleak read. I remember pawing through it as a child, wondering when the otters were going to catch a break and being repeatedly appalled at the fates that awaited. When I'd finished, I realised that the misfortunes suffered by the Farthing animals had, all along, been karmic retribution for their own wanton brutality. (Seriously, Dann, what the hell compelled you write that book? Did an otter eat your sister or something?) If you're an otter then the literary gods have decreed that you don't get a happy ending - although there may be some scant exceptions that slip the net (presumably not of the fyke variety). I've never read Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas by Russell Hoban, but I would hope that at least doesn't end in a massacre (although it's Hoban, so I can't just take it for granted).
Following in that grisly tradition of literary lutrine suffering we have our next volume of the Survival series. You might be wondering if the "Otter" volume is really going to be any more upsetting than "Deer" or "Fox". And yes - yes, it is. Trust me when I say that this is by far the cruellest and most distressing entry in all of Survival. It is not for the faint of heart. I don't know what it is about otters that makes them such magnets for all of life's tragedies. Or maybe, in this case, I understand it all too well.
Reading through the publication details, I noted that the book gives thanks to The Otter Trust, making it the only edition of Survival to explicitly credit a charity with input. As such, it isn't surprising that "Otter" should have a somewhat more pronounced environmentalist subtext than others in the series. All of the Survival books were made for educational purposes, and all contain some detail on what human encroachment has done to make the titular objective that much harder for the species in question. But in the case of "Otter" it really does seem as though you can't turn around without bumping into some life-threatening hazard that never needed to be there in the first place. "Otter" was clearly written with an eye toward illustrating how the various knock-on effects of human intervention have made it near-impossible for the otter to function in the habitat in which it ought to be thriving. It was a noble aim indeed, for at the time "Otter" was published, in the late 1980s, the future of the Eurasian otter in the United Kingdom (and significant parts of Europe) very much hung in the balance. The 20th century was a thoroughly unkind time to the species - Tarka might have had it tough living in the 1920s with Deadlock and co constantly on his tail, but at least they got to practice their enmity in uncontaminated waters; between the 50s and 70s, pollution caused by modern pesticides led to critical declines in otter populations, and England and Wales came dangerously close to losing the otter altogether (as Switzerland did, by the end of the 80s). The 21st century has thus far been sunnier, with populations showing signs of recovery in many English and Welsh regions, but there is still a way to go.
Unfortunately for your player animal in "Otter", you're mired in Britain of the 1980s, what an absolute hellscape you have to contend with there. The gameplay is engaging and the challenge level more satisfying than either of its predecessors, but the entire experience is swamped in this grimly depressing aura (I'm sure that was 1980s Britain in a nutshell, for lutrines and non-lutrines alike). Even if you make it safely to page 23, it's hard to shake the feeling that there isn't much of a world out there for you any more, your victory mitigated by the sense that you're fighting what's effectively a losing battle. Most of the deaths in "Otter" can be described as unhappy accidents brought about by a general human disregard for the tribulations of nature - the protagonist dies simply for having the misfortune to get caught up in the middle of our various acts of earthly pillaging, and there's such a miserable wastefulness to it all. Adding to the dismay is that Roger Tabor's textual commentary has a more pointedly acerbic flavour than either "Deer" or "Fox", tending to accentuate the utter senselessness of each demise.
What else is there to be said about "Otter"? As seems befitting for the ill-fortuned mustelid, it contains what can only be described as the single most DIABOLICAL death in all the Survival series, one that I didn't see coming and which genuinely shocked me on my first playthrough. I was somewhat derisive of "Fox" for the relatively low challenge presented by its hidden enemies, but "Otter" definitely ups its game by several notches. All I can say is, if you spotted this particular hazard and deduced exactly what was in store, then congratulations, you made a better otter than me.
On a more cheerful note, there is a rat in this book, the first of two rat appearances in Survival. No harm comes to the rat in either case, and for that much I am very relieved.
With that, we're at the point of no return. For a deep dive into the psychologically-scarring abyss of these not-so-bright waters, click below. To remain unspoiled, get running!
Note that, whereas "Deer" and "Fox" only had five losing endings, "Otter" ups the stakes by incorporating six. From a gameplay perspective, that's good - the more potential deaths you've got, the greater the challenge. Of course, more deaths also means we get a greater psychological hammering from the deal.
- Death #1 (5) - Death by fyke net: As you swim up to the entrance of the fyke net, you're given the opportunity to get the fyke out before it's too late. If you didn't take the obvious hint, then you blatantly had a death wish. The double-page illustration showing the otter slipping innocently into the deadly netting would absolutely get my vote for the most purely horrifying image the series has to offer - so much so that whenever I'm flicking through this book, I always try hard to avoid opening it up on page 9. It gives me the willies. Fyke nets in general give me the willies - they're ugly, disturbing-looking things. Swimming into one is obviously ill-advised, but I do like how Tabor's commentary captures something of the instinctive processes that would presumably be guiding an otter in such a scenario - the net itself might seem strange and intimidating, but the instant you've sighted that mass of helpless writhing eels trapped at the far-end, you're probably not going to resist. Bad move - once you've entered into the fyke net, you'll be helpless and writhing too. Oh fyke indeed.
- Death #2 (7) - Death by fuckwad with a gun standing at far end of field: THIS IS IT! The single most diabolical death in all of Survival! On my first reading I really couldn't see anything wrong with the suggestion on page 17 that I head into the bushes to groom my fur, so I innocently turned to 7, only to be met with an ominous flash of grey. Without proceeding further, I went immediately back to 17 - I had lost, but I wanted a second attempt to identify what had killed me before I let Tabor explain. For a while, I couldn't see it. I assumed there had to be something in the bushes themselves (a discarded fishing tackle, maybe?), but eventually realised I was looking in the wrong direction entirely. Far off in the landscape was a blot that seemed to become more and more ominous every time my eyes scanned across it - a vaguely human-shaped blot that looked to be carrying a fishing rod of sorts. Probably an angler heading for the river, I thought...and since there's no mention of any approaching angler in the text, he must be what's rotten in this particular state of Denmark. Thing is, he seemed so comfortably far removed from where I was standing, I had a hard time fathoming how exactly he had managed to kill me...unless, that's not a fishing rod at all, but a shotgun? Oh god, that was it, wasn't it? The fucker just shot me from a distance. Okay, that was well-played, Tabor. With hindsight, I realised that I was careless, as much of Page 17 is taken up by a huge, wide open space, and I should have treated that as greater cause for suspicion than I did. Nevertheless, this is by far the most fiendish of all the hidden enemies - the shape of the man is difficult to discern at first glance, and it's certainly not altogether obvious that he's holding a deadly weapon (compare to the man with the gun in "Fox", who was exceedingly easy to see and avoid). The fyke net might fill my guts with greater anxiety, but that human-shaped blot on the far horizon will likewise haunt me every time I have the displeasure of opening up on 17. Finally, I would note that in the UK the otter has been legally protected since 1979...so what this cunt is doing is very illegal on top of everything else.
- Death #3 (12) - Death by car: By now, this is emerging as a recurring pattern in the Survival series - if you step into the road, you're not going to make it safely to the other side. It didn't exactly work out for you in your previous lives as a deer or a fox - and since, in this case, your alternative was to head to page 23 (ie: safety, home), what compelled you to take the route that was so obviously going to put you in the path of danger instead? Actually, this is a bit of an odd one, because you can see from the close-up shot in section 12 that there's an angler standing beside the car, but in the illustration itself he's obscured by one of the text boxes. He doesn't seem to have any other purpose in this scene, so am I to assume that this is the driver who'll run me over; that by the time I've gotten to the road, he'll have gotten back into his car, only to reverse right over me? Noteworthy is that this is the only death (in the whole of Survival) in which anybody mourns you - according to Tabor, "He [the driver] was sorry, but you are dead." The sentiment is appreciated, but ultimately kind of futile. Doesn't it just succinctly sum up so many of our thwarted good intentions when it comes to looking out for our animal friends?
- Death #4 (13) - Death by Deadlock: If you look closely, you can see your old enemy Deadlock skipping about in the meadow, and you would do well to skip him altogether. As hidden enemies go, he's far easier to spot than that twat with the gun, but he looks innocuous enough, so rookie players wouldn't necessarily register him as a threat. I will give Deadlock's owner (not pictured) the benefit of the doubt and assume that they didn't set him on you deliberately - although they might have done a more conscientious job of controlling their dog in an area where it could pose a risk to wildlife.
- Death #5 (18) - Death by expired fish: You find yourself in a river where the water is particularly foul, and in the vicinity of two prospective targets - a fish making a rapid getaway, and a fish that is barely moving at all. It might sound like a no-brainer, but think about this carefully - if that fish isn't reacting then it's a safe bet there's something wrong with it. Prolonged exposure to pollutants in the water is causing it to go belly-up, and if you put its contaminated body into your digestive tract, you'll quickly follow suit.You can make the right choice here with just a little bit of logic.
- Death #6 (19) - Death by drainage pipe: While there's nothing in the text or illustrations to obviously indicate that the pipeline is catastrophically bad, as with the fyke net this scenario is basically a test of character - specifically, of whether or not you can resist the morbidly curious urge to stick your head into a dark abyss without it being a given that you'll find your way out again. On that note, this death is accompanied by perhaps the most fantastically macabre remark from Tabor: "You pressed on, hoping to find your way out, but there wasn't one." Oh man, that's grim.
Other observations:
- So yes, there's a rat. The rat probably wouldn't qualify as a hidden enemy, since it poses no direct threat to you, but it provides unwelcome competition for easy pickings in the form of a little lost duckling crying out for its mother. Nature is red in tooth and claw, as we know.
- For a while I was dead set on avoiding page 14, as I figured that DANGER WEIRS AHEAD sign had to be of significance. But no - 14 will take you to danger, but in the form of the expired fish. The weirs never come into it. Maybe it does seem a bit unfair to convey vital information on something the otter itself would be entirely oblivious to.
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