It has its tragedies, it has its goatpocalypses, and you can play it at thoroughly merciless difficulty settings if you so desire, but really the lesson here is do the work and you'll survive - even thrive. However, and I think to its credit, DOM has a different agenda. It would fit the sticks and stones theme, and I swear I've played a dozen things with the same perspective and same stark palette, which merrily stamped me into the ground for daring to not yet understand every nuance, for having the temerity to experiment. And what makes Dawn Of Man, which is ostensibly built from very familiar parts, so compelling is that overreaching plays out in unexpected, far-reaching ways.ĭawn Of Man could so easily have been purely brutal. Like any good city-builder, drama in ancient humans management-strategy game Dawn Of Man centres around overreaching. It ravaged my prehistoric tribe's trouser-nibbling livestock. The goat-horde was thus shivering and starving when the frosts came, an open door to some terrible infection, centuries before vets were invented. Because they consumed hay faster than a half-dozen grain fields could possibly re-grow. 43 of the buggers succumbed to some fatal goat lurgy, contracted because my braying friends knocked hooves faster than I could possibly build stables to house all the resultant goatlings.
My lowest ebb in out-of-nowhere city-builder hit Dawn of Man was not when raiders slaughtered 18 of my people while they were calmly picking pears, or when three of my guys collapsed in the snow because I'd ordered them to spend the winter hauling a bus-sized rock across a mountain range (I wanted to build a henge, you see).
0 kommentar(er)
