Bad Mojo

Let's get the money quote out of the way right here and now: Bad Mojo is Myst directed by David Lynch and scripted by Franz Kafka. At the beginning of this brilliantly grisly game, you watch as Roger, a seedy entomologist, gets turned into a cockroach. Doesn't make much sense and doesn't have to: What matters is that you now see the world from the vantage point of Periplaneta americana and have to cross a basement, a bathroom, a kitchen, a bar, and a living room to get back to human form. And it ain't easy.

Bad Mojo is some kind of treat, but it's not for the Merchant Ivory crowd. Among the sights one skitters across are two dead rats, one dying (but still talking) catfish, maggot-infested meat, and slugs. The sound effects squish, the compelling music track dooms along, you can practically smell the rancid bacon grease. The rating on the box says ''Teens 13+,'' and that's just right: Teens are the perfect audience for this photo-realistic gross-o-rama. If nothing else, the Gregor Samsa/ Help-I'm-a-Bug! metaphor probably makes damn fine sense to an adolescent.

Because I played Bad Mojo with a reviewer's cheat sheet in hand, I was able to get through it in one day, lending it the creepy pull of a well-wrought horror movie. For most players, though, running around in circles on a lovingly detailed basement floor for weeks may eventually pall. Fact is, Bad Mojo is almost too good to be a game — but as games go, it's one of the pest. A-