(Co-authors: John Teti and Ryan Kuo)

Ryan Kuo didn't like the first Layton game, Professor Layton and the Curious Village. I loved it. So when we were assigning the review of Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box, it was a little awkward. After all, the sequel looked much the same as the original. We all head into these reviews with open minds, but we knew that if Ryan wrote up Diabolical Box, a "Fry It" was likely, and that I would probably "Buy It."

Before the argument devolved into fisticuffs, an experiment was proposed: a joint review! We've both played the game, and we're going to bounce this review between us point-counterpoint style until we arrive at a Buy/Try/Fry rating with twice the usual gravitas. I'll kick things off.

John Teti: First things first; I love puzzles. The cartridge could just contain a hundred puzzles or so, and I would be happy. The challenge for the makers of Diabolical Box is to build something around the puzzles that doesn't just feel like filler.

And that's what takes Diabolical Box from good to great, because I never find myself tap-tap-tapping to hurry through the cut scenes in this game. Even though the puzzles are often only tangentially related to the action, I get involved in the game's charming Continental trappings. The Agatha Christie, Jr. mysteries that form the background of the game are told at such an easy, relaxed pace that it's never difficult to follow the story -- this despite the fact that a player has to juggle six or seven different plot threads that stack on top of each other.

Part of the game involves riding a train, so they give you a puzzle about trains. Brilliant integration of story! First prize!

Ryan Kuo: I'm more indifferent to puzzles, but I began to hate them in earnest after a few hours of Curious Village. The series is based on the premise that lush point-and-click exploration can somehow uncover the latent appeal of hair-tearing, SAT-style word problems -- an idea that I liken to drenching castor oil in honey.

I was done with Curious Village the instant I found myself faced with a "two trains going in opposite directions" question. Not to invoke the word "fun," but the game felt like just the opposite -- compulsory weightlifting for your brain cells. But for all its similarities to the original, I actually find Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box a pretty different experience.

Because much of Diabolical Box takes place on a train, instead of the first game's literally dead-end village, I immediately have a sense of forward momentum. With each puzzle I solve, I end up several miles closer to my destination and wade deeper into the deftly paced plot. No longer is the puzzle a cheap way to rack up gameplay time. Instead, I can see how working through a puzzle is a metaphor for Layton's own intellect, patience and pleasure in the unknown.

John Teti: Ryan zeroed in on the most important difference between Diabolical Box and its predecessor. I was really tired of that Curious freaking Village by the end of the first game. Diabolical Box has so much more movement to it. The train is used to full effect, literally driving the proceedings forward.

But look, this is still a Layton game, and the puzzles are the thing. Overall, they're a slight improvement over the selection in Curious Village. The best puzzles compel you to look at something familiar in a new way. To question basic assumptions. What I find so pleasing about Diabolical Box is that it assumes you've played Curious Village and built up a sense for the kind of trickery that's afoot.

In other words, you come to the second game with a new set of assumptions, and Diabolical Box responds to that. There were a number of times when I was on guard for some complex solution, having been trained by Curious Village never to be satisfied with my first answer. And then the answer was simple, made difficult only by my own machinations. The most extreme example was a puzzle in which you have to break up segments of a chain in order to join them into one long loop. I came up with the right answer in about 30 seconds. I then agonized over the puzzle for a half hour because I was convinced I was wrong.

Diabolical Box does more than offer difficult puzzles; it sequences them so nicely. It follows a spatial puzzle, along the lines of "what would this shape look like if it were turned inside out?" with a puzzle that relies on some subtle verbal shading. The cliché way to express this is that it's "exercising different muscles," but it's more artful than that. It's about predicting the audience's state of mind and then using that against them -- like a stage magician who knows that the crowd will follow his left hand while he palms a card in his right.

Prof. Layton certainly has a lot of junk in his trunk! What? Oh, that's not what I meant. Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant he has a huge ass.

Ryan Kuo: I can't speak to how the puzzles compare to their Curious Village counterparts, since I only played that game for about three hours before returning it in a huff. I take them more at face value, for better or worse, and find that they sometimes conflict with how I want to experience the game.

I go into Diabolical Box expecting the utmost polish, which I get from the game's immaculate "Triplets of Belleville"-style illustrations and toy-box music. This polish lends the game a strong consistency in tone. As Layton and Luke journey from London to ghost town, it's amazing how much atmosphere seeps from the game's static backgrounds and reams of unspoken dialogue. Over time, the accumulated atmosphere of train cars, village shops and city streets makes me feel as if I've truly traveled miles across the countryside with the duo.

On the other hand, the Diabolical Box puzzles seem to veer from one end of the spectrum to the other. Some are so rooted in mathematics, logic or verbal comprehension that I still find it hard to tell that I am playing a game and not taking an exam. These are dreary to think through and immensely satisfying to answer correctly. Some hide unexpectedly simple, unorthodox solutions that punish the literal-minded. It's maddening to realize that one of these puzzles is actually a gimmick, when the previous two puzzles were completely straightforward. Finally, some puzzles require little more than trial and error. For example, one puzzle asked me to place roses optimally throughout a train car. The puzzle updated itself visually as I went along, and ended automatically when I stumbled upon the right configuration.

As John says, the game's puzzles speak to different states of mind. I suppose this seems intentional. But for someone like me, who doesn't love all puzzles equally, they're inconsistent to a fault. When I pass a test of logic in the game, I do feel like Layton. When I accidentally slide blocks, stack pancakes, or distribute roses the "right" way, I only feel like a fraud. I wish that none of the puzzles could be played through reactively, like a conventional videogame -- even if these are the ones I'm best at solving. They don't speak to the cultivation of the mind.

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John Teti: I'm not sure that anyone loves all puzzles equally, so I think that "inconsistent to a fault" is awfully strong. The puzzles are varied. For my part, I'm not a big fan of the sliding block puzzles, either. They take too long, and they're good for the occasional "eureka" moment, but as you say, it's often because you stumbled into the answer. I know exactly what you're saying about feeling like a fraud. It feels strange when the game compliments you on your mind after you beat it through brute force.

The puzzles are more graphically polished in this sequel, but sometimes they're a little too ornate for their own good. There were a couple visual puzzles that were difficult not because the logic was tricky but because the hand-drawn scenes did not scale well to the DS' tiny screen. One puzzle that sticks out in my mind is a picture of a train-platform farewell scene in which you were supposed to find a part of the picture that would be impossible in real life. But I had a hard time seeing what half the things on the screen were, let alone determining if they were unrealistic.

Layton's assistant Luke enjoys tormenting small animals for sport, as is the custom in Generic European Country, where the game takes place.

What about the mini-games? I thought that the hamster one was lacking. For the readers: Along the way, you acquire a fat hamster from somebody that you meet. This unlocks a mini-game in which you make the hamster run around a small yard by tempting him with toys and food. I just never found it very much fun. And the hamster's voice is completely out of line with the rest of the game's tone -- he has this broad, Noo Yawk accent that grates on the ears.

There's also a camera mini-game, which is simpler -- you find scattered camera parts along the quest and try to assemble them back into a whole -- but more enjoyable. It's only a diversion, but it's a pleasant one, unlike that braying hamster.

Ryan Kuo: I like all the mini-games, but my hands-down favorite is the teapot. You brew different combinations of tea leaves, herbs and spices that you pick up in your travels, and see if they make tea.

You know what I like most about the tea brewing? It lets the game show off -- you're going to jump on me for this -- a more Japanese sensibility that points to its roots. (You can also see this in the anime cut scenes, but those don't work at all for me.) There's something about the way this mini-game digitizes and fetishizes these natural ingredients, and gives each one a particular stat -- "spicy," "refreshing," etc. -- that recalls life sims like Animal Crossing and Harvest Moon.

It's also about the way Layton and Luke are shown hovering over a giant teacup with white wings, and the sense of humor that comes forth when their tea turns out to be terrible. The two have a lot of funny exchanges here, and their dialogue feels "cute," having none of the gravitas of the main storyline.

The mini-game gives us an alternative version of Layton in particular, who's depicted in the game proper as a virtually flawless, larger-than-life character. Here he's outed as an Englishman who can't for the life of him brew a good cup of tea without trying, and failing, a half-dozen times first. It's in the tea brewing that the game suddenly loses some of its composure and becomes unexpectedly playful. I see something Japanese in that. Conversely, it puts me in awe of how seamlessly the rest of Diabolical Box wears the outfit and mannerisms of a refined British professor.

Unlike spiritual predecessor Sherlock Holmes, who had a nasty cocaine habit, Professor Layton's only addiction is tea. Sweet, delicious heroin tea.

John Teti: Yeah, I don't see how introducing some comic relief via a mini-game is so distinctly "Japanese." It strikes me as an empty statement, but if that's your take, fair enough. I've made my feelings on this point clear in the past, so I'm not going to belabor it.

I will briefly defend the cut scenes. They remind me of Miyazaki's "The Castle of Cagliostro," one of my favorite animated films. The most obvious similarity is the animation style, but there's also a sense in both "Cagliostro" and Diabolical Box that the worlds are very sparsely populated. It's a quiet world, where bustling crowds are rare, and characters are encountered one at a time -- usually after they've been hiding just out of sight. It creates the sense that this is a staid, empty, almost gray world until Layton and Luke arrive to color it in.

Now, we've delayed it long enough. Time to decide on a rating. If I were writing the review myself, I would assign a "Buy It." You?

Ryan Kuo: Well, it's empty when you put it that way. Which brings up a complaint I have about most reviews of this game. They basically amount to this: Diabolical Box has puzzles and a story, and sometimes they relate to one another. If you like puzzles, or Professor Layton games, you will like this.

I was tempted to give this a Try -- because it's obvious that not everyone will be interested in a game that amounts to a series of brainteasers. But if there's an empty statement, it's that one. The game won me over, which makes me think it's more than just the sum of its parts. Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box has the style and storytelling chops to convert twitch-gamers and non-gamers alike. It deserves anyone's attention.

John Teti: And here I was bracing for a fight. Looks like "Buy It" is the unanimous verdict.

This review is based on a retail copy of the game provided by Kyle Orland.