Hercule Poirot heads to Egypt, only to find himself pulled into the tangled politics of someone else’s disastrous love story, though the brighter side is that there’s no shortage of murders.
Playing as Hercule Poirot usually signals that success is within reach. Agatha Christie’s best-known creation is sharp, intensely methodical, and often wildly frustrating—especially now that Microids has decided to give him a more eye-catching appearance. Some might argue that Poirot’s look doesn’t matter, but they’re mistaken. I remember a few of the earlier Blazing Griffin releases keeping Poirot’s glossy, egg-like head, yet none come close to the bow-tied presence of David Suchet. Still, I try not to dwell on it as I get reacquainted with Microids’ taller, angular take—hair piled high, dressed in a crisp white suit with a silk cravat—first seen in 2023’s Murder on the Orient Express. Tonight, this version of Poirot is in a club, and unlike David Suchet (or the entirely charm-free Kenneth Branagh), he’d probably draw attention.
Death on the Nile sits among Christie’s best-loved works, and watching fresh adaptations as a crime-fiction fan can feel like an indulgent treat once you already know the major twists. With that in mind, Microids’ approach to Death on the Nile adds a new playable character and storyline: Jane Royce, a young private investigator and devoted Poirot enthusiast. She introduces herself at the club and later finds herself involved in a case that overlaps with Poirot’s. The opening chapter sets up the cast: heiress Linnet Ridgeway meets her friend Jacqueline de Bellefort’s boyfriend, Simon Doyle, for the first time. Jackie and Simon are completely smitten; Linnet craves their whirlwind romance, yet she can’t seem to find passion among the quieter, middle-aged aristocrats competing for her attention (girl, you would have adored Raya).
Jump ahead six months: Poirot is in Egypt, arriving at the hotel where Linnet and Simon are celebrating their honeymoon. And yes—she married her friend’s fiancé, and the two of them are set to sail down the Nile on an extravagant cruise. It’s the kind of melodrama that still shows up in soap-style storytelling today, and I genuinely think Christie would have appreciated the Chinese micro-dramas that nobody wants to admit they watch. Then, of course, vengeful Jackie shows up, ready to settle the score.
The main mystery plays out on The Karnak, a lavish riverboat that also stops at an ancient historical location. In terms of gameplay, Death on the Nile sticks closely to the same point-and-click framework as Murder on the Orient Express. You guide Poirot to gather clues and speak to suspects, build your ideas in a Mind Map, and start Confrontations to draw out the truth from anyone trying to mislead you. You can also complete straightforward character profiles in Poirot’s internal “mental rolodex” to keep track of people, though these don’t really change how you play. Everyone keeps a secret tucked away like a piece of a puzzle inside their cabin. There are lockpicking and eavesdropping options too, plus a few dull stealth sections in Jane’s chapters that Poirot would never touch. Most puzzles are engaging without being mentally exhausting, but it wouldn’t be a Microids game without at least a couple solutions that are maddeningly hard.
In the end, Death on the Nile is a satisfying experience. It delivers a relaxed, fairly gentle murder mystery—an easy, low-pressure way to spend weeknights, particularly if you can’t recall what happens in the book or the very bad recent film version. Still, it feels uneven in a few areas that matter a lot to detective-game devotees who care about how and when clues are presented. In one chapter centered on a stolen piece of jewelry, the playable character labels it as counterfeit before I even learn that myself—possibly a small hiccup caused by rearranged dialogue that never got corrected. In another section, my character suddenly drops the name of someone who hasn’t entered the game yet; I only find out who they are later.
This is the heart of mystery and detective games—those small, detail-driven elements truly matter. Checking the dialogue for consistency is crucial. Small particulars count. Yes, there’s plenty of wandering around and re-checking, which is exactly what you expect from a genre that demands a very high level of accuracy and careful observation. Here, everything comes together through careful reasoning and constant review, with the protagonist polishing even the tiniest inconsistencies from every last scrap of information. What is Poirot, if not someone who drives everyone mad with his insistence on precision?
Death on the Nile isn’t just another Agatha Christie game—it’s an Agatha Christie LimitedTM release, which is the pattern you often see after a couple generations pass, when the estate softens the original creator’s vision into a mid-range product that’s easier to sell. The game itself doesn’t stand out much, although it does tick the correct boxes and includes some striking interiors from the 1970s. The voice acting runs from enjoyable to stiff, and in the Bronx sequences it’s unintentionally funny—kind of like “why does this rough-edged Chinese aunt sound like she’s auditioning to be an aspiring antebellum plantation owner?” On top of that, many characters had far more compelling motives in the book as well. I can’t quite understand why Microids dialed things down, but it still felt like a lost chance to embrace full-on revenge themes in the age of reality television and Dramabox.
With all that in the way, I ended up spending a long time thinking about literary legacy, reading, and what adaptation really means. Earlier today, I ran into someone passing along—along with the right kind of alarm—a news headline that said: “Were You Assigned
Full Books to Read in High School English? While that’s genuinely discouraging, it doesn’t come as much of a shock—since education systems everywhere seem to bend over backwards to cater to generative AI shortcuts rather than real learning.
It’s honestly sad that so many people don’t read, find it hard to stay invested in a narrative, or simply don’t enjoy mysteries on their own. The idea that others have little interest in picking up books is also hard to swallow. Still, Agatha Christie has endured, even as her estate hopes we’d ignore that *And Then There Were None*—as they claim, the top-selling crime novel in history—was originally published under the title *Ten Little N*****s* (or, in the U.S., *Ten Little Indians*).
The different versions and reworkings of Christie’s stories, here specifically as a click-and-point game, have led Poirot’s style to feel like a literal, programmed loop that steals some of the mystery’s charm. This isn’t anyone’s deliberate choice so much as the inevitable result of shifting to a format shaped by instructional design. The novels weren’t meant for you to watch events unfold through Poirot, basking in the confidence of being “good at detective work.” They weren’t designed to teach that anyone can become an investigative prodigy while wearing a tailored suit. Instead, these books were meant to pull you into the life of an oddball, stubborn little Belgian man—very likely undiagnosed—who has an almost supernatural gift for solving crimes, manages to annoy everyone nearby, and somehow keeps colliding with every strange character in his orbit. The story’s intent was to drop you into awkward situations, squeezing out every last ounce of scandal that could surface from accusation and confession alike. Book Poirot preferred to sip his tea and keep to himself; this version is warmer and more helpful, built to reflect the player’s fantasies of becoming a detective. Yes, he delivers his small “I am the world’s greatest detective” flourishes, as a wink to his famously inflated ego. But for all the theatrical possibilities games can offer, when it comes to what truly sets Poirot apart from other detectives, they simply can’t compete with the classic pleasure of biting your bottom lip as you lose yourself in the written page.
“I like to read, and I wouldn’t grab Agatha Christie in 2025—nor would I put on an audiobook,” a friend said when we talked about why Christie’s stories still hold attention. We’re stuck in a notably uninspired stretch of remakes, though some of us barely survived the *Pride and Prejudice and Zombies* era of the 2010s. Given this appetite for fresh takes (and, honestly, everything we see tends to trace back to someone else’s story), it makes sense that Microids would bring in Jane—a brand-new character ready to roll up her sleeves and take on a task in a very non-Herculean way. I’ll admit I blinked twice at a moment where she pressures someone for answers, only to follow it up with a backhand that looks straight out of a cartoon. If this moodboard was shouting “frustrated Coffy-era Pam Grier,” it’s loud and unmistakable. And if the intention was to contrast pushy Jane with a more relaxed Poirot, it just doesn’t land for me—especially with the rigid, paper-doll feel of the character models. I don’t enjoy leaning on clichés, but *Death on the Nile* leaves me thinking, well, you know what they say— it is what it is. If you asked what I’d rather see instead, I’d point you toward 2022’s excellent *Wayward Strand* as a standout example of what truly strong branching narratives can do to revitalize classic literary crime stories.
I’m a big fan of crime fiction. As a matter of principle, I’ll—echoing one of the major characters from *Death on the Nile*—throw myself fully behind an Agatha Christie game, fully aware that reinvention and reinterpretation are part of what keeps these stories alive long after their creators are gone. Still, even though Christie’s work often delivers oddball charm, suspense, and energy (even when it’s muted and distinctly British), my first takeaway from *Death on the Nile* is to come to terms with a certain comedic stillness in today’s most interactive media. It’s, at its core, a completely different kind of experience.
A copy of Agatha Christie: Death on the Nile was provided for this review by Microids.