Point and click is writing, plus a lot of plumbing

A point and click adventure has, underneath it, a surprising amount of state. Which items you hold. Which items have been combined. Which conversation topics have unlocked. Which door is now unlocked because of a thing you did two scenes ago. Which line the character says on the second examine rather than the first.

None of that is creative work. All of it must be exactly right, because the genre fails loudly: one broken flag and the game is unfinishable, and the player will not know whether they are stuck because of a bug or because they are missing something.

This is the ideal case for handing code away. It is high-volume, low-taste, and unforgiving of small mistakes.

The writing. Every good adventure game is carried by its dialogue and its examine text, and that is not something to generate and forget. The joke in the description of a broom is why people remember these games.

The puzzle design. A good adventure puzzle is fair in hindsight, which means the solution has to be visible before it is needed and the game has to hint without telling. That is a judgement about a specific player at a specific moment, and it is yours.

The scenes. You build them by hand in the builder, deciding what is in frame, what draws the eye, and what the player will try to click on first because it looks important.

The inventory, with combining and use-on rules. The dialogue system, with branches and conditions and topics that appear once something is known. The flag state that tracks what has happened. The save file. The hotspot handling, the cursor states, the walk-to logic.

You describe behaviour in plain language: using the crowbar on the crate opens it, but only after the guard has left, and if the guard is still there the character refuses with this line. Director 1 writes the GDScript in your project.

Then you play it and find the hole, because there is always a hole. You describe it and it gets fixed. That loop is the normal way to work here.

Flockbay is a desktop app for Mac and Windows with Godot bundled inside it. Your project is a real Godot project on your disk, so your writing, your art and your audio are files you own rather than rows in someone else's database.

The game runs locally when you press play. There is no browser version and no streaming.

Building needs an internet connection, because Director 1 and asset generation come over the network. Playing what you built does not.

Which branch you are on is settled before anything else exists. Making a project asks 2D or 3D, shown as two pictures, with no default and nothing created until you pick. Pick 2D and the room is assembled the way this genre has always assembled one: ground painted in where the character walks, and everything else placed as pictures at an exact position, turn and size, by hand with the mouse.

That is the branch most of the Catalogue serves. 55,073 of its 60,648 objects are sprites, searchable by name with a picture of each, so the crate and the filing cabinet and the broom are things you find rather than things you commission. A picture sits on its own drawn bottom-centre rather than the middle of its file, so a barrel stands on the floor instead of hovering by however much transparent margin the file happens to carry, and draw order follows that same point, so the thing lower down the screen is in front. That is exactly the sorting a painted scene needs.

The other branch is a real 3D scene with a fixed camera, where you can move the camera later and the room is still there. It is the other choice rather than the recommended one; pick it because you want depth in the room, not because the flat version is a fallback.

Art comes from generation, the web, or your own hand, and geometry can be built directly when that is the honest fastest way to get you playing. You will always be told which route was taken. One gap worth knowing before you need it: Director 1 will generate a single flat picture when you ask, but not an animated one — no frames, no sprite sheet. A character who walks through drawn poses is your art, an artist's, or the web's.

Adventure games have one characteristic death: the player is stuck, has tried everything, and cannot tell whether they are missing an object, missing an idea, or hitting a bug. They stop playing and never come back, and they rarely tell you why.

The defences are known. Make the required object visible before it is needed. Have the character comment on what is wrong rather than refusing silently. Give a hint system that escalates. Avoid a puzzle whose solution depends on knowledge the character has and the player does not.

Most of those are systems, which means they are code and get written for you. What is not automatic is testing for it. Watch someone else play, say nothing, and write down every place they hesitate. That list is your real bug report and no tool produces it.