Pull the spring back, let go — the table decides the rest.
The tin-and-spring table from the back of the cupboard, rebuilt from the springs up. You catch a figure with the mouse, draw it back and let it go; a steel spring does the rest, and nothing invisible helps the ball on its way. Eleven a side, both teams pushed forward and interlocked, so there is always traffic in front of goal.
Ten tables come with it, and they play like ten different games, because the surface itself is simulated rather than repainted. Pick a nation, see who you are drawn against, and take it through a European Championship or a World Cup — or sit up to four people around the same board and pass the mouse along. At half time the table is turned round on the desk, flags and clock lifted out of the way first, the way you would turn a real one.
What's in it
The surface is the opponent
Pressed tin drags and rebounds dull, moulded plastic runs fast and comes off the rail hard, stretched baize kills the ball dead — and the tenth table is no board at all, but a field of light.
A plank with a memory
The oldest table has been quietly warping since 1890, and it still bends a long shot with it — the same strike never finishes in the same place twice.
An opponent with nerves
The computer plays at the strength of the nation it represents: weaker sides hesitate and re-aim before they shoot, stronger ones commit and never look back.
Cups worth winning
Take a nation through a European Championship or a World Cup, group stage to final, with the draw, the table and the bracket laid out in front of you.
Four people, one table
Up to four players take turns on the same board — no accounts, no lobbies, you simply hand over the mouse.
Nothing was bought in
Every board, figure, kit, ball, sound effect and note of the soundtrack is generated by our own code — the only thing brought in from outside is the typefaces the text is set in.
Screenshots
Want to know when it lands?
Drop us a line and we'll let you know as soon as there is something to play.
contact [at] gabooarts [dot] com