Once the fighting begins, there’s nothing we can do to affect the outcome.ĭespite the seeming madness of TABS’ battles, it soon becomes clear that, underneath the staggering figurines, there ticks a clever piece of mathematical symmetry. Then we surrender complete control to the game, sit back and watch the carnage unfold. We hire our soldiers and place them as best we can. And we’re on the other side and we have a budget to spend on our opposing army. So me and the kid are staring down the barrel of a small army of tactically placed enemies, on one side of an area that’s shaped a bit like a tennis court. But they’re not, in the least sense, historically accurate. Ancient Greek-style phalanxes will appear alongside Persian-esque archers and Romanish swordsmen and Carthaginian battle elephants. TABS has a campaign mode that takes us through various military periods. I am not, generally speaking, an ideal dad The project has turned out to be the most fun I’ve had with a video game in ages. So I agreed that we would review TABS together. Turns out, he was already familiar with the game via his intense diet of YouTube gameplay videos. Long before I’d reached the end of my précis, he was bouncing off the walls yelling “TABS, TABS, TABS”. The strange thing is, they’re like silly ragdoll soldiers, but their goofy physics don’t matter because as the battle progresses, you really get into who’s gonna come out on top.”
“And they are two opposing teams, and you let them loose against each other, and then you see who wins.
“It’s like an overhead view thing where you take a dozen archers and a knight and then you take a Viking berserker and five shieldmen,” I said. When it came to telling him about my current interest, Totally Accurate Battle Simulator, I couldn’t recall the game’s name, so I had to describe the general concept to him.
He’s not mad into sweeping historical death sagas or heartfelt indie love stories. “I’m previewing a new game about aliens,” or “I’m reviewing a strategy game about samurai.” It’s a nice way for us to connect, although he views my game tastes as pretty dreary. My youngest son, a boisterous 8-year-old, will often ask me about the games I’m playing for work.
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